


Red-Hot

by joondaes



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joondaes/pseuds/joondaes
Summary: Kyungsoo doesn't like to complicate things except that having a relationship with one of his professors is not on the list.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Age gap and age switch, intercrural sex, cross-dressing, swearing, rimming (if it ain't your thing)
> 
> Jfc. Honestly, this was rather difficult to write. It took me several months to finish this oneshot because I had a hard time figuring out the plot. Nonetheless, I really enjoyed writing it. Have fun reading!

There are three things in Kyungsoo’s bag: a smartphone, a wallet, and a makeup kit.

 

“Safe and sound,” he says to the person on the other end of the line. “Okay, I’ll just let the driver know I’ll be done by nine o’clock.”

 

As far as he is concerned, the client is a business magnate of a China-based company that brands and manufactures vehicles in the automotive industry. He remembers reading an article about the filthy rich man leading a sixty-year old multimillion-dollar empire. Kyungsoo, however, is determined to take the challenge. He trudges straight to the front bar.

 

“You must be Yi Fan,” he greets.

 

“I’ve been waiting.” Yi Fan flashes him a grin, then leans in to kiss Kyungsoo on the cheek. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Sookyung. You’re gorgeous.”

 

The compliment is a bit hackneyed. Of course Sookyung is a pretty doll, and Kyungsoo actually appreciates the glamor of cross-dressing. The outfit of the night is a complete set consisting of a white blouse with black bow, a frilly miniskirt, which is perfect for a pair of knee-high boots, and a golden blonde wig.

 

It’s plain and simple. Kyungsoo is often occupied with bachelors who tend to be executives, architects, and doctors ranging from late twenties to mid-forties. There are instances in which he is brought to social events in and out of the capital city. It pays well particularly at times a client requests for an extravagant date such as travelling abroad.  

 

But the work routine is quite a killer. It varies depending on the weekly schedule. He picks a fancy garment, receives a call or a message from the client, and proceeds to the secret rendezvous. He survives it as planned. At the end of the day, he comes home with a busting headache.

 

Nonetheless, he does enjoy the dynamics. He is earning enough cash to order clothes, shoes, and wigs on an online marketplace where he can at least be free from judgment. Kyungsoo seldom shops at an actual exclusive boutique for women. There was a time he bought a floral sundress and told the sales lady that it was for his girlfriend. On top of it, he had to master the art of strutting in high heels without tumbling to the ground. Kyungsoo did struggle. He googled beauty and fashion hacks, and oh, thanks to makeup tutorial videos on Youtube.

 

“Let me buy you a drink,” Yi Fan says.

 

It’s a definite perk. Kyungsoo is wary of the boundaries, though. He needs a clear head to follow the dos and do nots. Plus, Junmyeon doesn’t really want him drinking alcohol or smoking marijuana at work.

 

The bartender serves a flute of Prosecco for him and a coupe of Manhattan for Yi Fan. Kyungsoo pretends to take a sip, then draws a conversation with the Chinese-Canadian tycoon. “I heard you just got back from a trip to Germany,” he begins. “How was your flight?”

 

“It was a tormenting ride, but the conference was extremely organized. I was captivated by the speakers. They were phenomenal.”

 

“Ah, you surely had one hell of an event.”

 

“I did.”

 

“Can you speak German?”

 

“I wish I could!”

 

There is a beat of silence. Kyungsoo watches Yi Fan light a cigarette. “Do you enjoy your job?”

 

“I don’t,” Yi Fan admits, tapping a finger on the surface. He sucks a puff of smoke, then blows it in the air. “I’m a Chief Operating Officer, which means I shoulder a great amount of responsibilities. Business is physically and mentally draining, Sookyung. It’s a money-driven bloodsport. I’ve been in the industry for a decade and I want a break from it.”

 

“I’m here for a reason,” Kyungsoo says, looking at Yi Fan in the eye. He leans against the bar top and waits for a response, but Yi Fan remains silent as he chugs the liquor. “Quite frankly, I can’t believe you’re single. You’re pretty handsome.” Kyungsoo studies him from head to toe, humming as he flattens the necktie on Yi Fan’s chest. “You have an eight over ten visuals to slay the ladies.”

 

“An eight over ten? Seriously?” Yi Fan’s face hardens. “My mom thinks I’m a solid ten over ten.”

 

“Well, guess what? I’m not your mother.”

 

“I think you’re interesting.”

 

“Good taste, babe, good taste,” Kyungsoo quips with a half-smile. “Come on. I suck at nursing a drunk man. Let’s have a walk before we head to the hotel.”

 

The music changes from R&B to electronic pop. A song by a modern artist echoes through the in-ceiling speakers. Yi Fan jams to the beat, then guides Kyungsoo as he puts a hand on the younger’s back. “You’re adorably small.” He chuckles. “I bet you’re a cute dancer.”

 

“Not to ruin your imagination but I’m not,” Kyungsoo retorts. He gestures to the left where the onyx wall exhibits a collection of premium liquors in varying sizes. It adds a classy atmosphere to the bar’s decor featuring a terrazzo floor, an absinthe fountain, and cushy booths. A server is scrubbing the glass of the chiller cabinet stuffed with colorful alcopops that minors are obsessed with.

 

“A fruity cooler,” Yi Fan says, referring to the garish yellow beverage of the lady in the corner. “Mango flavored drinks taste odd to me.”

 

“That can be lemon.”

 

“Or pineapple?”

 

“Yeah, pineapple is popular, too.”

 

“Or piss.”

 

Kyungsoo gawks. “Yi Fan, that’s gross!”

 

It’s going to be an exhausting night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The clock strikes eight. Kyungsoo hurries to the university with a cup of hot Starbucks macchiato in hand as he boards the bus. He doesn’t miss Yi Fan’s good morning message and Baekhyun’s three-minute long voicemail. He ignores the latter.

 

A brunette offers Kyungsoo a leaflet as he steps into the corridor. He passes through the staff inviting freshmen and sophomores to join a certain university-wide organization. He walks straight ahead.

 

The classrooms are significantly based on modern architecture tailoring a strong interior of white and cream. The windows are massive with roller blinds that a few troublesome students like to play with. Of course the early birds want the window seats where there are warm and cozy streaks of sunlight. It’s a rare encounter for Kyungsoo because he is often forced to sit halfway up the rows.

 

“I’ll be returning your exams,” the professor starts.

 

Kyungsoo bites back a curse knowing he is fucked. The dates with clients have doubled in recent weeks. Bookings are in full swing, and the general manager is checking the performance of escorts on a regular basis. Kyungsoo doesn’t even have the luxury of time to study for the subject which is _Philosophy and Literature_. He does recognize the living legacy of the classics but cannot seem to fathom the course’s relevance.

 

Apparently, Jongin can. He is crazy good and matches the intellectual acumen of a scholar. Kyungsoo is stuck in limbo searching for motivation to meet the man’s standards. But he is either exhausted or bored to function every time Jongin is conducting a lecture with cultural references from the 18th century. He enjoys copying the terminologies on the PowerPoint presentation, though. He writes them in the form of calligraphy. Kyungsoo beats the clock.

 

“You and I have a lot to talk about,” Jongin tells him.

 

Kyungsoo is stricken that he catches himself staring at him in question. It hits him hard as Jongin hands him his paper. The sad face drawn beside the failing mark is nearly demoralizing, but Kyungsoo doesn’t argue. It’s a lose-lose situation.

 

To hell with grades. Jongin is actually generous. He grants a second chance if there is a dire need for it. The very least thing he wants is burn a student with a soul-crushing remedial education.

 

“No excuses, Kyungsoo,” Jongin says. “See me after class.”

 

It sounds ridiculous but it's almost a lotto jackpot for students to have a private conversation with Jongin. The 28-year old professor is deemed grand and genius for being the youngest member of the department. In fairness, there is a decent amount of truth to it. Jongin is the fountain of knowledge personified. He is the type who can shoot back a witty retort to a snarky question, then ease the tension with a good topical joke. For the record, he knows he is deeply liked. It's quite evident in the number of hormone-raging undergraduates who brazenly flirt with him or crowd themselves at the front to get a nice view of his package.

 

At noon, Kyungsoo decides to visit Jongin’s office. He knocks once. He spots the elder reading a novel. It’s strange to think he finds him attractive with horn-rimmed glasses. There is a literary nerd vibe to it that Kyungsoo cannot describe. But it doesn’t mean he is forgetting Jongin’s personal habit: leaving home with the complete absence of socks. It horrifies him. He wonders if the students who have the hots for Jongin are aware of it. Not that it matters.

 

“I’ve been told I have the right to question people who stare at me for more than five seconds,” Jongin says.

 

“You have great taste in shoes,” Kyungsoo explains, referring to the pair of penny loafers. It reminds him of Michael Jackson who is rumored to be Jongin’s favorite pop icon.

 

“Oh. Thanks.” Jongin smiles. “Have a seat.”

 

Kyungsoo occupies the chair in front of the professor’s table. He doesn’t move but is aware that Jongin is searching for the grading sheet. The silence is knee-deep. He cannot wait for the consultation to end.

 

Jongin turns to him. “You don’t have to be nervous.”

 

It’s the close distance that leads Kyungsoo to realize the intoxicating ebb and flow of Jongin’s voice is not a joke by students who have shared a word with him. But the chuckle he does to prove a point is derisive as expected. “I’m not nervous,” Kyungsoo says coolly.

 

Jongin passes Kyungsoo a folder which contains the scoring rubrics for the semester. “You botched all the quizzes.” Kyungsoo stays still and quiet. “What’s troubling you, Kyungsoo?”

 

It’s the same calm, patient, and gentle tone he hears in class. Kyungsoo feels guilty, really, that he is failing the professor who has offered him a lot of opportunities to open a window on the matter. He is tempted to speak the truth but holds back remembering the rules he observes at work.

 

“Nothing,” is mumbled as a response.

 

“There must be a reason.”

 

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

 

Jongin doesn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure?”

 

“I am.” Kyungsoo doesn’t elaborate further.

 

“Okay,” Jongin says, sounding incredulous. “I’m assigning you a project to be submitted at the end of the semester. I’ll e-mail you the guidelines on Friday.”

 

“Am I supposed to be grateful that you’re treating me like a charity case?”

 

Jongin’s lips press into a grim line. “Kyungsoo, I’m lending you a hand and I insist that you accept it.” He waits, eyeing Kyungsoo. “Listen, if you are having issues, personally, you can always come here and talk to me about them. Don’t be a stranger.”

 

Kyungsoo dismisses the idea of having an arrangement with him in the future. “I’ll do you a favor, Professor Kim,” he says as he prepares to leave. “I’m sorry.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Minseok greets Kyungsoo with a smile as he serves a whiskey on the rocks. “Are you okay?” The bartender gives him a worried look, and Kyungsoo just nods. “You need a break,” he suggests. “I mean, you’re still young, Kyungsoo. Don’t stress yourself out. You can always decline a client’s request or at least scratch the weekend dates. Junmyeon’s returning tomorrow. You should talk it over with him.”

 

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

Kyungsoo stares at Minseok for a brief moment, then decides to spill the beans. “Do you remember Kim Jongin?”

 

“Oh, your professor?”

 

“Yeah, he’s too nice.”

 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

 

“I don’t know.” Kyungsoo shrugs.

 

A deep crease appears on Minseok’s brow. “Being nice is part of human nature, isn’t it?”

 

Kyungsoo frowns at the memory of Jongin’s well-wrought lectures. It cannot be denied that he is adored by a bunch of students for being kindhearted despite having a sharp tongue. Kyungsoo is reminded of the comments on the five-page critical analysis he submitted a month ago. Jongin was too damn blunt that Kyungsoo’s effort was dunked into the garbage bin.  

 

“Being nice is laudable, but being _too_ nice is barf-worthy,” he says in response to Minseok. “I failed the quizzes and exams. He said a project could do the salvaging.” He scoffs, aggravated, although he knows Jongin’s patience is wearing thinner. He can only hope he is able to accomplish the project before the deadline. “A fucking project. Can you believe it, hyung? I don’t even deserve it.”

 

“You’re terrible at appreciating,” Minseok jests, pouring more whiskey into Kyungsoo’s rock glass.

 

“I’m not doing it.”

 

“Man, are you crazy or drunk?”

 

“Probably both.”

 

“You do realize you’ve been blowing hot and cold about him for months, don’t you? The last time I checked, you were praising him for winning an international competition, and now you’re acting salty.” Minseok shakes his head. “Honestly, you sound like you have a schoolboy crush on Professor Kim.”

 

Kyungsoo laughs, practically choking on the liquor. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s the breathing definition of brainpower but he’s a flaming narcissist who is obsessed with self-glorification. He does charity work for it.” He drinks the shot in a quick go. “And he flirts with students a lot.”

 

“On a side note, I can’t believe you’re sapiosexual.”

 

“What?” Kyungsoo scowls, and Minseok raises both arms in surrender. “He’s eight years older than me!”

 

“Oh, shut up. You’ve had a 47-year old client before,” Minseok retorts.

 

“Junmyeon begged.”

 

“The puppy eyes worked?”

 

“Well, yeah. I couldn’t kill the deal.”

 

Minseok turns to the back bar and examines the packaging contents of the Russian vodka from the shelf. “I was wondering if you’d like to drop by Chanyeol’s place later,” he says, glancing at Kyungsoo. “Baekhyun is bringing some Chinese food. A bowl of Chicken Chow Mein is as perfect as the cold weather. You don’t have a date with your client, do you?”

 

“He had to cancel it.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I have to be home at nine.”

 

“You haven’t been with the gang for weeks! I promise I’ll drive you to your apartment before eleven.”

 

“Ah, I can’t be late for class.”

 

Minseok boos. “Who are you kidding?”

 

Kyungsoo cackles. “Yeah, it’s just Professor Kim.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Baekhyun sashays into the room carrying four bottles of soju, then occupies the vacant spot on the L-shaped couch where Kyungsoo and Minseok are seated comfortably. He pushes the empty cups of Chicken Chow Mein across the low-lying table and lays the alcoholic drinks.

 

Meanwhile, Chanyeol shoves a handful of tortilla chips in his mouth as he continues attending to the messages on the escort agency’s website. It has been nearly an hour, and he is still negotiating with a client who finds the cost of hiring incredibly expensive.

 

“I’ve had enough,” Chanyeol says. He exhales loudly. “You know, I can handle cocky clients but I cannot stand bullheaded clients. They’re such a pain in the ass. Like, how do you politely tell them to fuck off and inquire to a different escort agency that matches their quota?” He plops on the carpet.

 

“I suggest you add ‘please’ in the sentence but I prefer you just straight up tell them to do the world a favor and swallow a bullet,” Baekhyun says.

 

“Thanks, Baekhyun, that really helps,” Chanyeol replies, voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

Minseok pats Chanyeol on the back. “Breathe.” He beams. “Have you discussed it with Junmyeon?”

 

“Hyung is busy.” Chanyeol’s eyes sag.

 

“Leave him a voicemail,” Kyungsoo supplies.

 

“In other news, I bumped into Lu earlier today,” Baekhyun butts in, drawing attention. “He looked sexy as hell but I couldn’t stop thinking about how he managed to wear a pencil cut skirt. How the fuck?”

 

“I’m surprised you’ve never questioned me before,” Kyungsoo says with a smirk. They have been friends since fifth grade. Baekhyun is Kyungsoo's shadow in the dark, the person he calls in the middle of the night when he cannot sleep or when there is too much burden to carry, and the one he chooses to keep the closest to him in all types of situation.

 

“I’m curious, that’s all,” Baekhyun says.

 

“I guarantee you it’s a struggle,” Kyungsoo answers. “Tucking your junk for the sake of cross-dressing is not easy. I’m sure you don’t want your penis jiggling in the air as you strut in high heels. So, don’t even try to picture it in your head.”

 

“Oh, god, Baekhyun, are you planning to work for the agency?” Chanyeol’s face sours, and Baekhyun whacks him on the shoulder. “Admit it. You’re interested.”

 

“I’m not. I’m happy with what I am. I can fuck every single man in the neighborhood.”

 

“Not me. I’m straight.”

 

“Yeah, except you because you’re not even hot and you snore,” Baekhyun volleys back, and Minseok guffaws. “I don’t have to change into some kind of feminized fucktoy.”

 

“You shit, that’s offending!” Chanyeol growls, checking Kyungsoo’s reaction to Baekhyun’s unnecessary comment.

 

Kyungsoo nods. “Offending, yeah, but we’ve been called worse.”

 

Chanyeol scowls at Kyungsoo. “Why do you even tolerate him?”

 

“Shut up, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun snarls. “Kyungsoo knows I love him for what he is and I’ll love him more and more in the future. I’m _that_ friend.”

*** * ***

 

 

Jongin does a double take as Kyungsoo enters the classroom. “Do Kyungsoo,” he says, and Kyungsoo balks, giving him a long hard stare. “You’re very late. Nineteen minutes to be precise.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo responds, bowing.

 

Jongin sighs inwardly. He grabs a pen to mark Kyungsoo’s name on the tardy list. “Your homework.”

 

“Oh, yeah.” Kyungsoo quickly rummages through the confines of his backpack. It takes him half a minute to realize it’s missing. He glances at Jongin who flicks an eyebrow at him knowing that Kyungsoo is in trouble for negligence. “I did it,” he says. “It was here.”

 

“I’ll see you after class.”

 

Jongin begins the lecture with a poem from the Romantic era. He calls the attention of a few students to identify the literary geniuses behind the pieces shown on the PowerPoint presentation. As the hour progresses, he explains the period’s relation to Transcendentalism, a philosophical movement in the 19th century. Jongin continues with steely confidence.

 

“Class dismissed. Kyungsoo, please stay for a while,” Jongin prompts, and Kyungsoo does as he stalks toward the professor’s desk. “So,” he starts, leafing through some papers. “Do you have an explanation of sorts for being late?”

 

“I don’t,” Kyungsoo says pointblank. He avoids Jongin’s gaze. “It doesn’t have to concern you much, does it? I know I’ve got to face the consequences. You can give me the grade I deserve for failing to submit the homework due today. I don’t care.”

 

“Oh, right, I’m _just_ your professor. I’m sorry for caring about your grades.”

 

“Are you offended?”

 

“Honestly, yes,” Jongin admits. He grudges a grin. “I’m not expecting an apology from you, Kyungsoo, but I want you to hand in your paper tomorrow. I’ll be around as early as eight in the morning.”

 

“I told you, I lost it,” Kyungsoo insists.

 

“You probably left it at home.”

 

“I didn’t.”

 

“Well, I’d like to believe that you did.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kyungsoo visits a high-rise corporate building. A lady in gray ushers him to Junmyeon’s private office which is located on the tenth floor. The man is on the phone discussing the current trends perhaps with an investor. Kyungsoo waits and jams himself into the divan. It doesn’t take long before Junmyeon ends the call and plods on the chair with a heavy sigh.

 

“You barely have time to breathe,” Kyungsoo gripes. Junmyeon grins at him. “When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”

 

“Six years ago?” Junmyeon says bitterly. He waves a bottle in the air. “Wine?”

 

“No, thanks. How was the wedding?”

 

“It was lovely, I enjoyed the dishes, and Siwon’s bride was stunning.”

 

“And Jongdae hyung?”

 

Junmyeon’s face softens as he hears the name. He leans back. “Busy as usual. He is enrolled in a Master’s Degree program at SNU. I haven’t really had the chance to call him in the past hours and I miss him. I can’t wait to see him tonight.”

 

“Oh. You haven’t proposed to him yet?” Kyungsoo flicks an eyebrow. “Where are your balls, Junmyeon? Grow a pair!” he jests.

 

“A lifelong commitment is complicated, Kyungsoo. I love Jongdae, but there’s no need to rush, right? I’m not going to stop him from pursuing a career in the music industry. I’ll gladly own the cheering boyfriend title.” Junmyeon laughs heartily. “It makes me proud he’s out there dreaming big. He inspires me.”

 

The smile on Kyungsoo’s face grows brighter. “I’m sure he loves you as much as you do.”

 

“In other news, how are you and your client? I’ve got to admit you’re doing a great job. I keep receiving loads of feedback. They’re all positive. Tao is currently working with a Japanese mogul. So far, Lu has the most amount of requests.”

 

“Lu doesn’t even need to cross-dress.”

 

“I agree.”

 

Kyungsoo sighs. “Do you think I’m gaining weight? My new client is a foodie and he enjoys bringing me to buffets. We’ve already visited three out of five. I feel like I’m consuming ten-thousand calories per day.”

 

Junmyeon ogles him. “Is that a double chin?” He points a finger at Kyungsoo.

 

“Oh, god.” Kyungsoo grimaces. “Did you mean that?”

 

“I got you!” Junmyeon taunts, earning an eye roll from Kyungsoo. “Jog in the morning. Drink water and tea. Go on a healthy diet. File a resignation letter, maybe?” He smirks wickedly.

 

A sneer touches the corners of Kyungsoo’s lips. “You’re no fun, Junmyeon.”

 

Kyungsoo is strong enough to punch him in the throat or kick him in the crotch but he chooses a weaker option and drops the topic for good. Not that he cannot fight him because Junmyeon contributes to economic growth. The man is a stakeholder of the top media outlets in the country and heads a telecommunications company. Of course it’s just a natural instinct every time Junmyeon is being a savage. Kyungsoo treats him as a close friend. He knows he is in safe hands.

 

“Are you doing well in school?” Junmyeon asks.

 

Certainly, the gossip has reached Junmyeon. “Yes, daddy,” he quips, struggling not to cringe.

 

“Hey!” Junmyeon barks. He puts a straight face. “I’m serious. Please don’t fail a subject or I’ll be forced to hunt your professor down.”

 

“I hope you’re kidding.”

 

“Oh, I hope I am, Kyungsoo.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The digital clock perched on the wall ticks _8:40 AM._

Jongin rounds the room while the students are focused on a 30-item seatwork. He is particular with cheaters in class. A girl in a ponytail calls him to clarify the instructions, and Jongin patiently explains them. He continues to walk, then stops in front of Kyungsoo, staring at the younger. Kyungsoo notices, thinking that the elder is judging him real hard for shading A instead of B.

 

He looks at him, and Jongin smiles. “What?” he mouths, annoyed. Jongin ruffles Kyungsoo’s hair, and Kyungsoo swears he is suddenly feeling sick to the guts. He swallows thickly, hoping the professor doesn’t do it again because the next time he does, Kyungsoo is going to puke all over the floor.

 

“Pass your papers,” Jongin commands 20 minutes later.

 

It’s the horror of horrors for Kyungsoo. He fills in the blanks as fast as he can. He manages to complete the final set of questions but is the last person to submit. “Um, here,” he says in a rush. The paper falls to Jongin’s foot, and Kyungsoo panics. “I’m sorry!”

 

“It’s okay.” Jongin reaches down for it. “I got you.”

 

“Hold on a second.”

 

“What is it?”

 

There is no rescue from Kyungsoo’s embarrassment. “I forgot to write my name,” comes out as a whisper. He is sure the professor thinks he is indeed dumb or something. He is about to accept the paper when it’s returned to him, but Jongin yanks it back. Kyungsoo blinks vacantly, brows wrinkling in confusion.

 

“I’ll write it for you,” Jongin says as he grabs the Sheaffer from the pen holder. “Do Kyungsoo,” he pronounces. “I have horrible penmanship.” He turns to Kyungsoo who is rather aggrieved to utter a single word. “But there you have your name written by yours truly.”

 

“Thank you,” is Kyungsoo’s mere response.

 

“You’re welcome.” Jongin smiles. There is a pause that allows him to scan Kyungsoo’s answer sheet. “You’re the quiet type, aren’t you?” he asks, receiving no response. “You have to talk more, Kyungsoo. This is college. There’s like a thousand people on campus.” 

 

“Hmm.” Kyungsoo’s eyes skip around the room, left and right, seeking an escape.

 

“Hmm yes? Hmm no?”

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

“I’m afraid it does.”

 

“Yeah, realistically, it does, but how great do I have to be?” Kyungsoo questions, and Jongin stares a tad bit long, waiting. “Let’s be real. You’ve got to be kind. It’s a standard.”

 

“Then keep an open mind and conform to it. That’s how the world works. We’re all a little helpless sometimes. You cannot live your life thinking you’re capable of doing everything on your own.”

 

“And you cannot force a person to act right for your best interest. Don’t be selfish.”

 

Jongin’s lips limn into a line. “I just thought you’d fancy the idea.”

 

“Well, I didn’t.”

 

Kyungsoo’s heart plummets. He leaves quietly.

 

 

* * *

 

The smell of rice cake welcomes Kyungsoo as he enters Junmyeon’s office. He doesn’t hesitate to grab and bite a piece when Junmyeon moves the box across his desk.

 

“Your shoes are pretty,” is the greeting he hears from Jongdae who is sitting on the couch. The guy shoots him a kittenish smile.

 

The pink bow wedges are actually a gift from Yi Fan. Kyungsoo has opted to wear them to match the fit and flare dress he bought online. “Thanks, hyung,” he says. “How is it going? I haven’t seen you in a while. I’m glad you’re still in touch with your busy boyfriend.” He looks at Junmyeon with a signature sort of smirk. Junmyeon just frowns.

 

Jongdae chuckles. “Junmyeon is a real keeper. He spoils me like crazy.”

 

“Ah, you guys are disgustingly sweet.” Kyungsoo grins and glances at Junmyeon’s iPad. “Are you watching an Atlantis documentary?” he asks, examining the title that reads _The Educator._ It’s Junmyeon’s favorite Youtube channel.

 

“Yeah, it’s the coolest,” Junmyeon supplies as he picks up the gadget and waves the screen to Kyungsoo’s direction. “I’ll send you the URL. It highlights Plato’s _Timaeus_ and _Critias_. You’re majoring in Philosophy, and I assume you’re familiar with the dialogues.”

 

Kyungsoo nods. “They’re intriguing, but I prefer _Symposium_. It includes Achilles and Patroclus as lovers. Achilles is believed to be the bottom.”

 

“That’s cute!” Jongdae chimes.

 

“And it discusses the concept of love in Greek antiquity,” Kyungsoo adds.

 

“I hope it’s an easy read. I’ll check out the book,” Junmyeon says.

 

“Okay.” Kyungsoo finishes another rice cake, then sits on the chair across Junmyeon. “So, when’s the task? I thought you’d introduce the client.”

 

“I thought you were here to quit.”

 

“What are you talking about? Why would I—?”

 

“Minseok told me you were having difficulties.”

 

Kyungsoo falters for a couple seconds. Jongdae doesn’t miss the worry on Kyungsoo’s face. “Junmyeon,” he drawls. “I think it’s important to consider the fact that Kyungsoo is still in college. It’s a massive hellhole. I suggest you cut off the weekend activities so he gets some free time.”

 

Junmyeon hesitates.

 

“Kyungsoo deserves it,” Jongdae coos.

 

“All right, all right,” Junmyeon chants. “I’ll have to notify Chanyeol after the appointment with President Jo.”

 

“Thank you.” Kyungsoo smiles. He shares a knowing look with Jongdae.

 

“Settled!” Jongdae singsongs, then trudges toward Junmyeon’s direction. He kisses him on the cheek, soothing in as he is pressed against Junmyeon’s chest. “Relax. You know I’m here to help, right?”

 

Junmyeon cups Jongdae’s jaw. “What does that mean?” He feigns innocence, and Jongdae giggles.

 

“Do you have an idea?”

 

“Do _you_?”

 

“Guess it’s time for me to go,” he says cheekily, heading for the door. “Junmyeon, don’t forget to show me the client’s profile before the day ends.”

 

“Oh, sure, thanks for reminding me. I’ll e-mail you a copy.”

 

Kyungsoo pretends he doesn’t hear the sound of Junmyeon’s belt dropping to the floor as he lumbers out of the room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kyungsoo is surfing the Internet when a notification pops up on the browser. It’s almost eleven in the evening, and he is expecting Junmyeon’s message which contains the character profile and important dates re: client.

 

A document is attached as he opens the e-mail. The subject reads _Daddy’s Pick (Hot and Cute as Hell)_. Kyungsoo grimaces because Junmyeon is such a child for always including a side note in parentheses. He doesn’t mind anyway. It’s sort of an icebreaker. 

 

He clicks the preview button which immediately directs him to the page, then scrolls down only to find a photo of a person he is acquainted with. He emits a short, sardonic laugh. This is a joke, he decides. For a second, he pauses, letting the information sink in. It cannot be.

 

But reality slaps Kyungsoo in the face. He freezes as the name _Kim Jongin_ appears in bold letters. (Junmyeon really sucks at choosing a font size. It’s either too small or too big.) He cusses. Kyungsoo’s heart races knowing he is screwed. The details are presented flawlessly revealing Jongin’s identity as a 28-year old professor with a request for a week’s worth of fake dating. This is a joke, he repeats, convincing himself. He feels faint and tense that the sudden buzz startles him.

 

It’s Junmyeon. He answers the call.

 

“Your new client seems nice and sweet,” Junmyeon says. “Have you seen his picture? What do you think?”

 

“Please hand it over to a different escort. I can’t do it.”

 

“What? Why can’t you?”

 

Kyungsoo is practically paralyzed to speak a word. “I just can’t. I’m busy. I’m _very_ busy.”

 

“Being busy is neither an option nor an excuse.”

 

“But Junmyeon—“

 

“He needs an escort for an event which is several weeks away. I’ll help you clear your schedule. Chanyeol can put your bookings on hold or break each into chunks if that makes your task easier for you.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Kyungsoo mumbles. He can imagine Junmyeon sighing in frustration, and it pains him.

 

“I’ve favored Jongdae’s request because he believes in you. And I do, too. So don’t fail me.”

 

The following morning, Kyungsoo is awakened by a sudden call. The contact name _Professor_ _Kim Jongin_ flashes on the screen as he checks his smartphone with narrowed eyes. He curses, then leaves it ringing for a minute. He decides to ignore it whenever he hears it buzzing. And at ten o’clock, Kyungsoo finds a total of fifteen missed calls from the professor.

 

He comes to Jongin’s afternoon class with zero motivation. He feels completely weak to move a muscle. Perhaps it’s the lack of sleep which proves he is the worst human being of the day. Plus, the readymade breakfast he ordered at the convenience store was overcooked and tasted like rubber. It’s a shitty situation. He blames it on Jongin.

 

“Let’s proceed,” Jongin says. He glances around. “Kyungsoo, kindly read the excerpt.”

 

Kyungsoo wants to swear in a hundred languages if that is even possible. He sighs inwardly and expects the uber-pretentious smile that the professor often wears as a mocking tool. But Jongin’s face is stoic as he leans against the white board and waits for Kyungsoo to begin. 

 

He starts with the passage but is interrupted by a boy who is quick to complain that Kyungsoo’s voice is barely audible. It’s Sungjong. They have been together in a group activity before. Of course he remembers. Sungjong turns into an annoying chatterbox every time he talks about the bulge between Jongin’s legs. Kyungsoo lets it go and doesn’t argue.

 

Jongin ends the lecture earlier than the supposed time. It seldom happens, and Kyungsoo cannot help but think it’s also strange they don’t have class on Friday. He walks toward the door, eyes trained on Jongin who immediately catches him.

 

“I’m guessing you have a question in mind,” Jongin says, smiling. Ah, there it is. “What is it, Kyungsoo?”

 

“Why do you have to cancel class on Friday?” Kyungsoo queries.

 

“Oh. I have an appointment.” Jongin’s voice trails off.

 

“An appointment?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Is it school-related?”

 

“I’m afraid it’s not.”

 

“Is it a special occasion with an old friend or a family member?”

 

“Uh, no.” Jongin’s brow wrinkles. “Kyungsoo, you’re beginning to sound like an overly-possessive boyfriend. Why are you interested anyway?”

 

Kyungsoo snubs the side comment. “I just thought your students deserved to know the reason behind your first record of absence. Frankly, it was quite a surprising announcement.”

 

“Did I upset you?”

 

“No, actually, I’m glad you’ll be out because that means I have more time to finish the reading materials you’ve distributed,” Kyungsoo says pointblank. Jongin grins. “I have to go.”

 

“Okay. I’ll see you around.”

 

He bows and pretends he doesn’t notice Jongin making a phone call the very moment he leaves.

 

At night, Kyungsoo receives a voicemail from Jongin. He listens to it: _Hi, Sookyung. Um, this is Jongin. Work is probably tough. And that’s okay. I can wait, can’t I? I guess I’ll just have to refer to the schedule provided by the general manager. I hope you’re doing well. See you on Friday._

*** * ***

It’s six o’clock in the evening when Kyungsoo arrives at the bar. He attempts to chat with Minseok, but the bartender is on duty with a tall bottle of tequila. Kyungsoo observes the barroom as he stands near the VIP booths. The bar stools have been fully occupied by customers. He doesn’t bother to wait for a vacant spot. He waddles into the lobby where he finds a staff assisting a group of businessmen.

 

There is a light sheen of sweat on Kyungsoo’s forehead as he paces back and forth the area. He wipes if off with a twitchy hand. _Jesus Christ_. He cannot be nervous. He is expected to stay calm, cool, and collected. It’s just a quick meet up, although he is dealing with a totally different setup that doesn’t involve cross-dressing. Tonight, he is in a cashmere sweater and tight-fitting jeans which are the opposite of Sookyung’s expensive clothing. Plus, the shoulder-length wig is gone. It’s the perfect outfit for a special client.

 

While he is ready for Jongin’s abomination, Kyungsoo is certain a one-time revelation is better than a long-term lie. He cannot afford to doubt for another minute because it has been decided. He is basically stuck with Jongin for a week and he cannot stomach drama as a consequence.

 

A few minutes pass. Kyungsoo’s heart almost bursts into a million pieces when he finds Jongin wearing a crisp black shirt tucked in a pair of Levi’s. Kyungsoo is suddenly at a loss for words because, goddamn, he is such a fine man with classic visuals. He blinks twice which is dumb considering the fact that Jongin is now standing in front of him with a mildly baffled look. Kyungsoo gathers all the confidence he has.

 

“Kyungsoo? What are you doing here?”

 

“I have an appointment.”

 

Jongin’s face closed in thought. He lets loose a chuckle. “An appointment,” he echoes, nodding at the term. “Subtle. Did you have a drink?”

 

“No.” Kyungsoo keeps a measured stance. He gulps, hard. “I was waiting for you. You said you were on your way. It’d be rude to order before you came.” He watches him with anticipation, and Jongin is rendered speechless. “Please say something.”

 

“What exactly are you—?” Jongin stops mid-sentence, piecing the puzzle together. He is slack-jawed. A cleft forms between his eyebrows. “You’re Sookyung?” It comes out as a question, then a statement. “You’re Sookyung.”

 

Kyungsoo glances around. “It’s pretty dark and crowded in here. Mind if we take a walk?”

 

The invitation is a first for Kyungsoo. Generally, clients are encouraged to buy drinks and discuss the matter over wine, beer, or vodka. Although it’s a perk, Kyungsoo is hoping for a better scenario that doesn’t include alcohols and cigarettes.

 

He leads the way to the city square.

 

“This is a really bad idea,” Jongin says.

 

“I agree.”

 

“Listen,” Jongin prompts, grabbing Kyungsoo by the wrist. Kyungsoo looks at him with a steady gaze. “I didn’t realize you were Sookyung. A friend told me about the agency’s website, and I thought I could hire an escort for the class reunion. I was completely oblivious that you were the person behind the description. I didn’t mean to put you and me in such a mess of a situation.”

 

“Why did you pick me? You had a lot of options. Like, more than twenty.”

 

“I saw a photo of you, and you were beautiful.”

 

“Which one?”

 

Jongin blushes slightly.  “It’s a secret.”

 

Kyungsoo’s face hardens, guessing it’s either an explicit picture of him in a red corset or a maid costume. He drops the topic but promises to roast Chanyeol’s ass for choosing a sexy NSFW photo as bait.  “Now what? Do you have plan B? Plan C? Seriously, what do you have in mind?”

 

“Keep you,” Jongin responds. Kyungsoo falters for a couple seconds.

 

“Keep me? You’re forgetting the consequences, aren’t you?” Kyungsoo fakes a laugh. “Look, you have the right to quit and seek a hassle-free relationship through the moderators. The agency provides a list of high-end escorts. Don’t worry about the trouble. It’s just a business transaction.”

 

Jongin frowns. “You’re suggesting that I deliberate with the manager again which is time-consuming for me. You know I’m often busy with presentations and seminars. I don’t have much energy to waste.”

 

“I can’t help you.”

 

“You’re here because you can. You’re considering it.”

 

Kyungsoo is silenced. He hates that Jongin is right. “It’s complicated.”

 

“Can you please do me a favor and try to set aside the fact that I’m your professor? You’ve said it yourself. It’s just a business transaction. No strings attached. It’s not like you want to date me for real.” Jongin simpers as he eyes Kyungsoo. “Well, do you?”

 

Kyungsoo hisses at him. “Get over yourself.”

 

He regrets it, really. He needs Junmyeon’s army of guardians to come and rescue him. It’s too problematic that a) he is Jongin’s student and b) the process involves money and verification. Both are hard to nullify.

 

“Talk to me.”

 

“Fine,” Kyungsoo decides out of conscience. “I’ll be your escort. But you cannot be in a romantic façade with me for a week. The 22nd is an exemption for the sake of saving yourself from – correct me if I’m wrong – Oh Sehun.”

 

“How did you—?”

 

“I read your messages. All of them. You mentioned him at least four times.”

 

“Crap. I hope I didn’t sound annoying.” Jongin heaves a sigh.

 

“You did.”

 

It takes a minute of walking before Jongin spots a nearby bubble tea shop. He orders for two, then slides into the booth opposite Kyungsoo as soon as the drinks are served. Kyungsoo is rather expecting an awkward silence which happens a lot whenever he bumps into the elder in the corridor. But Jongin is quick to initiate a conversation.

 

“Can I be honest with you?” Jongin asks.

 

“Sure,” Kyungsoo says, baring no fear of being judged or interrogated.

 

“I’m actually surprised that you’re an escort. It’s quite a job. I mean, you’re dealing with a big melting pot of humans and minds.”

 

“It’s all about sex.” Kyungsoo doesn’t miss the shock on Jongin’s face. He laughs. “I’m just kidding. Do you honestly believe people hire escorts for sexual pleasure?”

 

“The stage is yours.” Jongin grins, then leans back with crossed legs. “Speak up.”

 

“Why would I? I don’t even trust you.”

 

“This isn’t about trusting me. This is about proving your point.”

 

A momentary silence follows. Kyungsoo eyes him cautiously. “It’s more of a companionship. People are world-weary to a certain degree. I’ve heard the worst life stories from clients who crave emotional satisfaction. They’re old-school gentlemen with lavish pursuits.”

 

“Are they attractive?”

 

“Some are quite handsome, but I don’t look at them as potential lovers.”

 

“I bet it’s exhausting.”

 

“Mentally, yes. It requires a decent amount of confidence which is difficult to rehearse at first. You’re working for an individual whose main purpose is to wear you as an accessory. It’s false connection. I do enjoy the dynamics, though. It’s a game of various personas depending on who you are with. But you can’t be close-minded. You have to listen well. You have to play accordingly.”

 

“Oh, have you ever been harmed or—?”

 

“No, I have a very protective manager. He does a lot of work to make sure the escorts are in safe hands. For the record, it’s normal for an escort and a client to have sex as long as it’s consensual,” Kyungsoo says, causing a faint dust of blush on Jongin’s cheeks.

 

Jongin clears his throat. “Well, you strictly can’t have sex with me.”

 

“Strictly,” Kyungsoo mimics. “So, tell me, why?”

 

“Because the university policy doesn’t allow professors to sleep with their students?”

 

“No, I’m talking about the fake dating on the registry.”

 

“Ah.” He nods, flushing harder. “Maybe I can’t do much and I’m missing the idea of being wanted.” Jongin’s voice is practically a whisper. He is silent for a moment, gaze lingered on Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo catches the eye contact in an instance, feeling a bit embarrassed because he is not supposed to look at him in a way that it makes breathing difficult to control. “I’ll stick to it. I mean, it’s still you, and I’m aware of the boundaries around what you are and what I am allowed to be.”

 

“Don’t get too attached,” Kyungsoo jokes.

 

“I think I already am.” Jongin smiles. It’s devastatingly sweet that Kyungsoo almost does the same, but manages to put on a blank face. “And to be fair, you can just call me Jongin.”

 

The meet up lasts for two hours which is new to Kyungsoo because the first date is normally finished in just an hour. It’s quarter to ten when he hobbles into the bedroom, then sprawls across the mattress. He checks his smartphone. A message flashes on the screen: _Thanks for tonight._ Kyungsoo’s cheeks are hot as he types a reply. He sends: _See you on Wednesday._ He doesn’t put an emoji. It’s the rule of thumb.

 

A beep comes after a minute: _You have a reading to do then. Good night!_

 

He falls into a deep sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kyungsoo occupies the farthest booth as he clutches the Dark Mocha Frappuccino with a careful hand, trudging toward the table next to a group of collegians from a nearby university. He settles into a seat, busies himself with a journal and a pen, and revels in the mellow music echoing from the radio.

 

This is a typical scenario in Kyungsoo's life as a college student. He is particular with organizing the schedule regardless of the activities he does as an escort. The café across the bar is the best place where he gets to focus and study. There is always distraction, but it’s the bearable type that doesn’t involve an overly-dramatic customer or a garrulous boss.

 

While he sips on the beverage, Kyungsoo browses the to-do list clipped on his planner. _Deadlines_ , he laments. Of course he is still the backpack-lugging Philosophy major who needs to submit a project to earn a passing grade in _Philosophy and Literature_. He is definitely pulling an all-nighter in the succeeding weeks.

 

“Kyungsoo?”

 

He hears a voice, recognizing it’s Jongin. “Jongin,” he says.

 

Jongin chuckles at the first name basis. “Can I join you?” he asks. He lays the Iced Passion Tea Lemonade on the table as Kyungsoo nods and mouths a _sure_. “How is it going?”

 

“Can't complain. Well, I can, but I won't,” Kyungsoo answers, earning a smile from Jongin who immediately sends him a knowing look. Not that he finds it appalling to fake date – or fake whatsoever – the professor. It’s for the best, at least Kyungsoo thinks it is because, apparently, Jongin’s job is in danger. If the dean discovered the off-campus arrangement, he would be fired on the spot. “You? I heard you hosted a book launch.”

 

“Oh, yeah. Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Jongin says. Kyungsoo resists the urge to snort at the spoken confidence. “I wanted to invite you, but you seemed busy. I had imagined getting rejected right in the face.” He laughs with Kyungsoo. “I wish you came.”

 

“I’d go if you had asked.”

 

“You’re kidding.”

 

Kyungsoo is definitely not. “So, I was wondering, do you have a cover story in mind for the class reunion? It should be believable.”

 

Jongin hums. “I got this. We met at work. I saw you standing at the water cooler. You smiled at me, and I realized I was madly in love with you.”

 

“Skip the cheesy office romance! It’s the worst plotline for a pretend relationship.”

 

“But it’s sweet, and I’m pretty sure I have the right to decide.”

 

“Wisely,” Kyungsoo huffs. “You’re such a cornball,” he mutters, and Jongin frowns at the sudden display of attitude. “For your information, I’m judging you. Your entire life depends on the setup. Do you really think you can fool Oh Sehun with your chick flick-inspired suggestion? No. It’s supposed to be realistic.”

 

“Okay.” Jongin leans against the table top as he lifts Kyungsoo’s chin with a finger and gazes at him. “I’m a professor. You’re a college student. I’ve always thought you’re beautiful, interesting, and smart. I like you, and you like me, too. It’s almost perfect.”

 

“What—?” Kyungsoo blinks at him.

 

“Does that sound realistic to you?”

 

“You can’t tell them that I’m younger than you,” Kyungsoo explains, shunning Jongin’s hand and turning to the floor-to-ceiling glass window. It’s raining. He watches the droplets of water dancing with a thousand of miniature fountains. A lady in brown folds a newspaper as a makeshift hat while an SUV crosses the glistening road. Kyungsoo adores the sight but hates the need for an umbrella which he, apparently, doesn’t have on a daily basis. “I gotta go,” he says.

 

“Where?”

 

“I still have class at six.”

 

“Wait,” Jongin says, rising to his feet as Kyungsoo prepares to leave the café. Kyungsoo spins around and sees him with a car key in hand. “I’m taking the same route. I can drop you off the university.”

 

“I don’t have an umbrella.”

 

“Me too.”

* * *

“Fuck,” Jongin cusses as he slips into the driver’s seat and closes the door.

 

The comfort of the car is almost claustrophobic for Kyungsoo. He breathes slowly. It’s a decent effort but enough to convince a casual observer that he is nervous. The air thickens, and he turns to Jongin who is half-aware of the situation.

 

“Are you all right?” Jongin asks.

 

“Are _you_ all right?” Kyungsoo gives him a short side-glance. “You’re soaked.”

 

Jongin releases the first three buttons of his shirt and starts the engine. “I have a clean towel in the backseat of the car. Grab it for me?”

 

“Sure,” Kyungsoo replies as he searches for it. “Do you want me to wipe the windshield for you?”

 

Jongin chuckles. “No, use it!”

 

“You look like you need it more than I do.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

Kyungsoo turns a deaf ear to the request. He scoots over and begins to pat Jongin’s hair dry. Jongin smiles a little, then gazes at him for a couple seconds. “Keep your eyes on the road,” he chides, and Jongin does in an instance. Kyungsoo’s fingers rub through the towel as he works it with small circular strokes. He notices the beads of water on the crook of Jongin’s neck. He presses the cloth against the skin. “Do you think I’m dumb for failing your exams?”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“You know what I’m talking about.”

 

“Of course not. I took remedial classes in high school, Kyungsoo. I got F’s.”

 

“Really?” Kyungsoo gapes.

 

The traffic lights are smudged by the rain which falls in silver sheets. Jongin stops the car, waiting for the go signal. He spares a moment to look at Kyungsoo. “I’m not perfect and I don’t want to pretend that I am,” he says. “I used to spell ‘tongue’ with the u beside o.”

 

“Holy shit.”

 

“Yeah, holy shit.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Baekhyun shuffles into the living room with a platter of homemade nachos. “What do you mean you’re dating your professor? Are you on crack?” he asks, joining Kyungsoo on the couch. “I hope you’re not talking about a balding fifty-year old man with a Hitler mustache and a beer belly.”

 

Kyungsoo lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s Professor Kim.”

 

“Professor Kim? The self-absorbed professor you hate on a visceral level? Who are you kidding, Kyungsoo?” Baekhyun laughs sardonically, but Kyungsoo’s face remains stoic. “Are you fucking serious?” he snaps, brows crinkling in a scrunch.

 

“It’s an escort-client transaction,” Kyungsoo explains. Baekhyun is skeptical as he studies him with narrowed eyes. “So realistically, we’re not dating.”

 

“You can convince yourself a thousand times that you’re not but you cannot ignore the fact that it’s still taboo and you’re both jeopardizing your on-campus activities.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Oh, you know?”

 

“Baekhyun, come on, it’s not like we’re having sex for fun.”

 

“What have you been doing together then?”

 

“Nothing in particular,” Kyungsoo says tersely. Baekhyun doesn’t buy it. “Well, we had coffee and tea the other day. He also gave me a lift.”

 

“Did you kiss?”

 

“I told you, it’s just an escort-client transaction!”

 

“You did?”

 

“We didn’t, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Baekhyun shrugs as he grabs a nacho and dips it into the cheese sauce. “I’m confused. Why are you constantly investing time and effort for someone temporary?”

 

Kyungsoo purses his lips for a brief moment. “It’s easier.” There is a strain in Kyungsoo’s smile. He steals the nacho from Baekhyun and pops it into his mouth.

 

Baekhyun glares at him. “You’re such a sad fuck,” he says pointedly. Kyungsoo throws him a weak punch on the arm. “Let’s have grilled steak for dinner. My treat.”

 

As expected, Kyungsoo finds Baekhyun asleep as the two-hour movie ends. It’s a common scenario in which he semi-regrets choosing an action film knowing Baekhyun is not a big fan of it.

 

He checks his smartphone. A message notification from Jongin appears on the screen: _Professor Choi brought cupcakes to the faculty lounge. What’s your favorite flavor? I’ll keep one for you. :)_

Kyungsoo is quick to type a response: _You don’t have to._

“Who are you texting?” Baekhyun probes, startling Kyungsoo. “Is it Professor Kim?”

 

“No,” Kyungsoo deadpans as he taps the _send_ button.

 

“Liar. Did you use an emoji?”

 

“Of course I did not.”

 

“Ah, it’s Professor Kim indeed.”

 

Kyungsoo wishes he could rip Baekhyun’s face off.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a cold and windy afternoon on campus, a slight breeze rustling the leaves scattered across the solid ground, packs of students milling around with rucksacks, and middle-aged men and women crossing the road. On the bench carved from mahogany, Kyungsoo sits, eyes roaming the streetscape.

 

He catches a familiar figure from a distance. He smiles, not because Jongin accidentally bumps into a stranger as he waves a hand at him, but because it’s Jongin and Jongin’s positive demeanor is contagious.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks as Jongin joins him. “You looked hurt back there.”

 

Jongin emits a fruity chuckle. It breaks free, delicately, and Kyungsoo melts into the sound of it, soft and bright like dandelions in a summer haze. “I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

 

“Killing time, I guess,” Kyungsoo replies. He wants to smooth the crease on Jongin’s shirt but realizes it may seem out of bounds. “I thought you were in the lecture hall.”

 

“No, I had to help Professor Kang with the preparations for the upcoming conference.” Jongin’s eyes drift half-closed. “I’ve been assigned to host the event and I’m a little nervous. There are approximately a hundred and fifty guests on the list.”

 

“You know you have all the confidence to stand in front of a large audience.” Kyungsoo sneaks a glance at him. “I’m not going to wish you luck, _professor_ ,” he quips, and Jongin frowns. “I’m just kidding!” He elbows him on the side. “Don’t sweat it. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

 

“Do you believe in me?” The tone of Jongin’s voice changes.

 

Kyungsoo’s brain screeches to a halt. Of course he does. “You don’t even have to ask me.”

 

Jongin is hushed. He measures Kyungsoo’s words with a teaspoon and doesn’t count them a _no_. He wills a grin. “We should go somewhere,” he says. Kyungsoo looks at him in question. “I have a two-hour break.”

 

There is doubt on Kyungsoo’s face. “Jongin, I can’t afford to put you in trouble.”

 

“I know a place, and you can flying headbutt me if it does put me in trouble.”

 

There is a high-street bakery with a bronze lettering perched on top of the wall. The shelves are teeming with baked goods such as blueberry muffins, sturdy loaves, and chewy cookies. They are a feast to the eyes. A few customers can be seen viewing the mouth-watering displays.

 

Kyungsoo feels a warm hand dragging him in. He steps into the well-polished flooring which is a white and brown checkerboard. He likes that the combination complements the counters and racks.

 

The guy with a nameplate that reads _Yixing_ gives him a dimple-cheeked smile. “Jongin!” he chirps. “I didn’t expect you to drop by. You brought a friend.”

 

“Oh, this is Kyungsoo,” Jongin introduces. “Kyungsoo, this is Yixing.”

 

“Hi,” Kyungsoo greets, bowing.

 

Kyungsoo claims the table near the window. He doesn’t fail to notice Jongin kissing a lady on the cheek before he locates him a couple minutes later. Jongin lays an ivory plate of caramel topped cream puffs. Kyungsoo helps him with the two cups of hot cocoa. “Be careful,” he says as Jongin slides into the seat. “It’s too much for an afternoon date, but thanks for bringing me here.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“Who was the lady back there?”

 

“My mom.”

 

“You’ve got be kidding me! She looks young!”

 

Jongin chortles. “She runs the business and works as the pastry chef.”

 

“She’s gorgeous. What about your father?”

 

“He’s a neurosurgeon in Daejeon. It sucks that I haven’t seen him for months.” Jongin reaches for the tissues. “He calls every week to check up on me and mom, though. If the department head moves the date of the conference, I’ll pay him a visit on Saturday, but I doubt. The program is fixed.”

 

“You’re too busy. Your father probably misses you.”

 

“I miss him, too.”

 

Kyungsoo is saddened. “If you really miss him, it’s your job to do something about it. You’re twenty-eight. At your age, you should be out there spending lots of time with your family.”

 

Jongin’s face crumples. “You speak to me as if I’m grandpa-years older than you.”

 

“What are you talking about? That’s not the point.”

 

For a fraction of second, Kyungsoo’s heart skips a beat as he hears his name from an uninvited guest. He finds Baekhyun clutching a bag of bread, standing in front of him and Jongin, and staring down at them with curious eyes. He freezes. The good news is he can either fake an emergency or pretend Baekhyun and he need to run an errand. The bad news is Baekhyun is meeting Jongin, and Kyungsoo thinks Baekhyun’s big mouth is as dangerous as a machine gun.

 

“Hello,” Baekhyun greets Jongin. “I’m Baekhyun. I’m Kyungsoo’s best friend and I’m surprised I’ve never met you before.”

 

Kyungsoo saves the protest.

 

“You should have told me you’re on a date,” Baekhyun tells Kyungsoo. He shoots him a wolfish grin, then Jongin. “You’re very attractive.”

 

“Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo chides. “What the fuck?” he mouths at him.

 

Jongin bows, smiling. “Thank you,” he says. “I’m Jongin. Kim Jongin.”

 

“Oh.” Baekhyun nods, snickering. “You’re the Kim Jongin in Kyungsoo’s life.” He pats Kyungsoo on the back. “Nice. I still have to go to the market.”

 

“Wait! Do you want me to come with you?” Kyungsoo asks quickly.

 

Baekhyun muses. “No. I’ll be fine.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I’m sure as hell, Kyungsoo, and you’ve got company. I’ll see you around.” Baekhyun’s grin hits another notch. “Have a great day, Professor Kim.” He waves them goodbye and leaves the shop for good.

 

“What was that?” Jongin grumbles. “It seemed like you had forgotten you were with me.” He sounds hurt, and Kyungsoo is feeling bad all of a sudden. “You’re not okay with _this_ , are you?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo blurts out. “You’re getting the wrong idea. I just don’t think it’s safe for us to hang out in public. It’s risky. You have a job to keep. If you lose it, I won’t be able forgive myself for allowing it to happen.”

 

Jongin sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

 

“No, I was rude.”

 

“Would you come with him if Baekhyun had said yes?”

 

“I would but I’d regret it.”

 

There is a ghost of a smile on Jongin’s lips. Kyungsoo breaks into a tiny laugh. “What’s so funny?”

 

Kyungsoo extends an arm and brushes a finger on the corner of Jongin’s mouth. “Baekhyun thought you were handsome, but you literally had buttercream on your lips.” He gulps, thumbing the spot, but withdraws from the close contact as he falls under Jongin’s gaze. “It’s getting late. You should finish your food.”

 

After a few minutes, Jongin hails a cab for Kyungsoo. He checks the time. Class at six, he notes mentally.

 

“He’s cute,” Mrs. Kim says to Jongin. She beams. “Are you dating him?”

 

Jongin is conflicted. To some extent, they are. However, they are, technically speaking, far from dating as a legitimate couple. “No,” he clips his answer. “He’s just a friend.” He tries to be convincing, but Mrs. Kim eyes him suspiciously.

 

“But you like the kid.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Weeks have gone fast with Kyungsoo attending classes, beating deadlines, and accomplishing tasks. Jongin contacts him from time to time to discuss Oh Sehun with him. It develops into a routine, then a habit that both of them cannot shake. They keep it casual. They make things possible for them. They meet at night and hang out at the bar whenever they are free. They _try_ and _try_ and _try._

 

“I like being alone with you,” Jongin says to him, and Kyungsoo cannot even tell if he is joking or not.

 

Jongin means it. But Kyungsoo? Kyungsoo doesn’t look deep into it.

 

It’s a bright Sunday. There is a beep inside Kyungsoo’s pocket, and he ignores it knowing it’s either a message from Jongin or Baekhyun. He waddles into the kitchen as he decides to wash the dirty dishes in the sink. All of a sudden, he is caught off guard by a call. He sighs, staring at the screen with the name _Kim Jongin_. He picks up on the fifth ring. “Hello?”

 

“Hi, it’s Jongin. Can you hear me?”

 

“Yes, I can. Where exactly are you?”

 

“I’m in the bathroom, shaving, but I’m almost done,” Jongin says, and Kyungsoo’s brain fizzes. “Are you busy? I was wondering if you’d like to go shopping with me. We have two days left to prepare for the party. We need matching clothes and bracelets.”

 

“Matching clothes and bracelets?” Kyungsoo guffaws. “Oh my god. You can’t be serious! I mean, I get the point but I don’t think they’re necessary.”

 

“They’re proof that we’re in love.”

 

“They’re for teenagers!”

 

“They’re for adults, too!”

 

“Listen,” he begins, sounding firm. “We don’t have to wear couple items for the sake of convincing people that we’re in a romantic relationship. There’s a fine line between proving and showing. Think of it. We don’t have to try too hard, do we?” Jongin exhales. Kyungsoo bites on his lip as he leans against the counter. “You have to trust me.”

 

“You know I trust you. I’m just worried about Sehun.”

 

“I’m coming with you for a reason, Jongin,” Kyungsoo says. “Okay. Here’s a plan. I’ll meet you at Starbucks. I’ll treat you some sandwich and coffee.”

 

“That’s really nice of you, but I’m not letting you pay for me.”

 

“You have less than thirty minutes to deflate your ego. I’ll be there at three. Don’t be late.” He clicks the  _end_ button and leaves the room.

 

It’s hardly a surprise that Jongin comes on time. Eight minutes before three o’clock to be precise. He spots Kyungsoo in the back corner of the café. He slips into the chair opposite him. As promised, he is welcomed by the said food and drink and Kyungsoo’s hot macchiato. “Kyungsoo, I told you, I’m supposed to cover the expenses.”

 

Kyungsoo shrugs. “Technically, it’s _your_ money.”

 

“Please don’t say that again. I just don’t want you spending money for _this_.” He gestures. “Whatever this is, because I’m your—“

 

“Your what?” Kyungsoo interrupts.

 

Jongin is silenced. He stiffens. “It’s not important,” he susurrates.

 

“Yeah, of course it’s not,” he says flatly. There is more into it that he cannot seem to find a way to discuss the matter with him, not without crossing a line. He tries to look at Jongin straight in the eye and fails at it. The fact that Jongin is not oblivious at all terrifies him. He changes the subject. “Are you still worried about Oh Sehun?”

 

“A bit.”

 

“Everything’s gonna be all right. I promise.”

 

“You should learn more about me.”

 

“What—?”

 

“I studied ballet in seventh grade.”

 

“You’re kidding.”

 

Jongin smiles. “I cried the first time I got dumped.”

 

“Oh my god. You got dumped?”

 

“Twice.”

 

“How could they.”

 

“Yeah, how could they.” Jongin snorts. “What else do you have to know? Ah, I’m a dog person. I can dance and sing. I’m working on a collection of poetry. I hate the word ‘lust’ because it makes me cringe. I prefer boxers.” He glances at Kyungsoo whose mouth falls agape. “I sleep half-naked.”

 

Kyungsoo nods slowly. “That’s nice. I mean, of course Oh Sehun is probably going to question me a lot.”

 

“Maybe.” Jongin pursues the last bite of sandwich.

 

“So, are you planning to buy me a sexy dress?”

 

Jongin nearly chokes as he remembers the photo courtesy of the escort agency’s moderator. Kyungsoo doesn’t miss the faint shade of scarlet flaring on Jongin’s cheeks.

 

“I like that you actually find me attractive,” Kyungsoo says, and Jongin flushes harder. “I’ll let you choose for me. I’m kind of interested in your type.” He thumbs the crumbs on the bow of Jongin’s lips. Jongin stills as he stares openly at Kyungsoo. “Clumsy.”

 

“Are you hitting on me?” 

 

“Play along. It’s a good start. You can’t act like a blushing virgin at the party.”

 

An hour later, they visit a boutique in the mall. Jongin opts for a plain black shirt. Kyungsoo smoothens the collar, then folds the sleeves into perfect squares for him. He jars to a halt realizing Jongin is gazing at him through the floor mirror. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.” There is a stupid smile on Jongin’s face, and Kyungsoo hates that it’s even charming. “How do I look?”

 

“Hot enough to make me sweat,” Kyungsoo quips.

 

Jongin laughs softly. “Kyungsoo, I’m serious!”

 

“Gorgeous. As always.”

 

The parking lot is almost empty at quarter to eight, though Kyungsoo spots a lady from a distance. He stops at the silver Chevrolet Impala that Jongin drives to the university every day. He watches him gather the paper bags in the passenger seat.

 

“Thank you. You didn’t have to help me bring them here,” Jongin says, facing Kyungsoo. “Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a ride home?” he asks. Kyungsoo nods. “Can you at least send me a message as soon as you’re back to your apartment?”

 

“Nobody’s gonna murder or kidnap me.”

 

“I know, but it doesn’t mean I have no reason to worry.”

 

"Fine."

 

Jongin gulps and nods, eyeing him for the very last time. “Good night.” He doesn’t move.

 

Kyungsoo does as he steps forward and molds a hand at the back of Jongin’s head. There is a pair of soft and warm lips pressed against Jongin’s. It takes a second to realize that Kyungsoo is kissing him and a few more seconds to realize that Jongin is actually kissing him back in a slow, gentle, and delicate rhythm. He leans in, and Jongin grabs him by the waist, keeping him close.

 

It doesn’t last long as Kyungsoo withdraws from the contact, breathing hard and letting his fingers slide behind Jongin’s neck. He is partly embarrassed that it almost feels real and it’s doing more to him than it strictly should.

 

He leaves with a stuttering heartbeat.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s almost midnight when Kyungsoo receives a call from Jongin. He is completely aware he owes him an explanation. “It’s late,” is Kyungsoo’s greeting.

 

“You kissed me,” Jongin says. “Please don’t pretend that you didn’t.”

 

“I wasn’t planning to.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

“What? Were you expecting a compliment? An apology? A round two?”

 

Jongin snorts. “No, but I had a thought.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I want _you_ to escort me to the party.”

 

Kyungsoo ponders. “Isn’t that the plan?”

 

“I totally mean _you_ , not Sookyung.”

 

* * *

 

 

The agony is over.

 

It takes Kyungsoo an hour and a half to prepare for the party. He chooses a black button-down with neatly folded cuffs and slim-fit slacks matching a pair of classic wingtip brogues. He stops at the mirror, realizing he is acting a different role that doesn’t involve a fancy dress or a pleated skirt. It’s quite a novel experience, he thinks, to work as a male escort at a social event for the first time.

 

The streets are bare at night, but there is a cacophony of crickets and cicadas in the neighborhood. Kyungsoo checks the bordering lots for good measure, then catches a glimpse of Jongin’s silhouette in the car as he shuts the front door.

 

“Nice shirt,” Jongin greets as he hops in.

 

He registers the fact that Jongin is dressed and coiffured to perfection. Ah, Kyungsoo is playing with fire and he is a hundred percent aware of it. There is a smattering of applause for him. It renders him tongue-tied for a second. He is officially a goner.

 

The tailored suit and navy chinos are an exquisite combination, and Jongin is sporting the outfit, which includes cap-toe oxfords, really well. Kyungsoo is glad the mankle fashion is beginning to grow on him.

 

“Thanks,” Kyungsoo says in response to Jongin. “I’ve got to admit you look hot.”

 

The smile on Jongin’s face speaks volumes. “I owe you.” He flicks the ignition switch. “Are you ready?”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

“Let’s have a deal then.”

 

There are at least thirty guests as they arrive at the venue. The room is modest-sized with a gallery of paintings along the foyer. The left section exhibits a dance floor with some people who are acquainted with Jongin. The right side is a functioning bar where a few have gathered around to chat and drink.

 

Jongin surveys the area as they weave through the crowd. He waves a hand at the women chatting in the corner, then snakes an arm around Kyungsoo’s waist. “Are you okay?” he asks in a mocking whisper. “You’re shaking.”

 

Kyungsoo elbows Jongin on the stomach, and Jongin laughs, holding him tighter.  “For your information, I’ve had a long list of clients before and I don’t just _shake_ ,” he bites out. “Your attempt to seduce me is failing real bad.”

 

“Do I even have to try?”

 

“Yeah. Hard.”

 

“Is that a challenge?” Jongin provokes, and Kyungsoo glowers, snubbing the question. “Oh, come on, Kyungsoo, you promised. Don’t be such a buzzkill. Let’s have fun.”

 

There is no turning back. Of course Kyungsoo remembers Jongin is still a client and he is supposed to play the boyfriend role.

 

He positions Jongin’s hand on his side. “Show me.”

 

And so it begins. Jongin introduces Kyungsoo to his friends. As expected, Kyungsoo is fairly gregarious. He meets Youngjae, a freelance photographer, and Soojung, a fashion designer, and the rest. He mingles with the group for minutes and handles the conversation in a manner that doesn’t bore a soul to death. Kyungsoo listens, all ears, then shares or adds tidbits of information to the subject. The hardest part is laughing at a joke with horrible comedic timing, but there is never a dull moment. It’s a piece of cake. He knows he is good at it.

 

“Jongin is a fluff ball,” Seulgi jests. “How long have you been together? I bet your love story is sickeningly sweet.”

 

“Ah, we’ve been dating for quite some time,” Kyungsoo says. He trades a knowing look with Jongin, and Jongin’s eyebrows raise a titch.

 

“We met in college,” Jongin jumps in. Pairs and pairs of eyes are concentrated on him. “I kind of caught him staring at me, not in a creepy way, okay.” He stifles a grin. A lady giggles. “We started hanging out as friends, and eventually, as a couple. He’d invite me for brunch, I’d walk him home, and I fell for him day by day.” Jongin’s gaze is warm and soft as he looks at him. Kyungsoo is dazed. “He makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

 

“I told you, he’s cheesy,” Youngjae whispers to Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo can only smile at how nice it feels to hear Jongin saying those words right in front of him.

 

The evening is full of banter. The later it gets, the deeper he learns about the people in Jongin’s life. Kyungsoo familiarizes himself with them. Most are prying, but Kyungsoo survives the interrogation. He admires Soojung’s knack for aesthetics and respects Youngjae’s opinion on politics.

 

He chats with Taemin whose parents are top-rated chefs. “Oh my god. I’ve never tried eating frogs. Are they tasty?”

 

Taemin laughs at him. “Well, there’s a local restaurant that serves fried frog legs. I’m sure you’ll love them.”

 

The party progresses. Jongin’s fingers are laced with Kyungsoo’s as they walk. They pause at the bar to get some drinks. “I didn’t expect you to be a good actor, but it worked,” Kyungsoo says with a strained chuckle. “They believed you.”

 

“I wasn’t lying.”

 

Kyungsoo’s stomach knots. He tries not to read into it.

 

“Did you think I was?” Jongin asks.

 

“Yes,” Kyungsoo replies, nonchalant. There are words in the back of Kyungsoo’s throat, but they die before they are even spoken.

 

He notices a lanky man with a model-like figure steering into their direction. A quick glance at Jongin confirms Kyungsoo’s suspicion. He doesn’t have to second guess it’s Sehun in flesh and blood. Of course he is familiar with the person he has been stalking on social media in the past few days. Thanks to the quality photos on Sehun’s Instagram account.

 

“Jongin, I’ve missed you,” Sehun greets with a hint of sarcasm. “You brought a date.” He eyes Kyungsoo. “It’s been years. Ten years. How have you been?”

 

Jongin doesn’t entertain the salutation. “This is Kyungsoo.” He gestures, and Kyungsoo exchanges a bow with Sehun.

 

There is a pause. “What happened to us?”

 

The question is numbing that Jongin chooses to pass the answer in silence. Sehun knows, and he doesn’t have to explain it to him as if they are complete strangers. He _was_ a great friend until Jongin discovered the truth behind Sehun’s frequent anger at him for having the limelight in high school. He topped in class, constantly, and Sehun loathed him, confronting Jongin that he didn’t deserve to be second because he could do better and Jongin only earned excellent grades for being _too nice_.

 

“I tried to contact you, but you were nowhere,” Sehun explains.

 

“You made a choice, Sehun. You wanted to shut me off your life. I accepted your judgment. I let you hate me. I granted you your freedom.” Jongin’s jaw clenches. “But it wasn’t enough, was it?” he slurs. “We were young and stupid.”

 

Sehun’s nostrils flare. He huffs. “Young and stupid,” he echoes, stepping closer. “Jongin, you were fake, and you still are.” 

 

“You can think of me in whatever way you want. I’m not here to please you.”

 

“There goes your arrogance. You wear it well.”

 

“Let’s not fight.”

 

Sehun cackles. “See? You do realize Jongin is a joke, don’t you?” he asks Kyungsoo.

 

Kyungsoo blinks at him. “Jongin is quite funny, yeah, but he’s amazing.”

 

“Oh, that’s just hilarious. Do you actually like him?”

 

“If you’re trying to convince me to dump him because it bruises your ego that he’s been happy and successful without you, I’m sorry, it’s not going to work,” Kyungsoo says, and Sehun’s mouth falls slightly ajar. “I’m not in the position to judge you but I’ll do it anyway. You’re an asshole and you hate Jongin for being smarter than you, am I right? Oh. Of course I’m right. Facts are facts. They cannot be changed.”

 

“You’re wrong!”

 

“I highly encourage you to listen carefully. First, we all get tired of getting fucked over. Second, friendships don’t last because of people like you. And third, don’t expect a happy ending when you’ve aimed for a sad ending from the very beginning.”

 

“Who the fuck are you—?” Sehun growls.

 

“I’m Jongin’s boyfriend, and yes, I like him, if that satisfies your curiosity.”

 

“Kyungsoo, it’s okay,” Jongin says to him. He bows at Sehun, then leaves with Kyungsoo.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You didn’t have to speak to him,” Jongin says. He wraps a hand around Kyungsoo’s arm and squeezes it. “Thank you.” He looks at him directly. Kyungsoo grins the slightest. “It’s getting late. I’m sure you’ve got errands to run tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you up the entire night.”

 

It doesn’t matter, Kyungsoo thinks. “I don’t mind staying a little longer.” There is a deep burn in the pit of Kyungsoo’s stomach, setting him on fire, and it lingers. He feels ridiculous. It has been weeks, and _this_ , this state of hoping and wanting is slowly tearing him to pieces.

 

In a room full of people, Kyungsoo’s fingers tangle with Jongin’s, and for once, he forgets about what is real and what is not.

 

“It’s crowded in here,” Jongin says. “We should go for a drive and get some fresh air.”

 

A few minutes later, they leave the building and locates the car in the parking lot. After the small talk ends, they approve of opening the windows of the driver’s and passenger’s seat. They roam the town with leaf-strewn sidewalks and glowing streetlamps.

 

Kyungsoo risks a glance at Jongin whose eyes are fixated on the road. He fingers Jongin’s collar, warily, smoothing the base, and Jongin smiles. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” He tries not to sound robotic. “Can you even drive? How many bottles did you drink?”

 

“I barely made it to three, Kyungsoo,” Jongin retorts. “I’m okay. I’m not drunk.”

 

“Good, because I can’t drive for you. I don’t have a license.”

 

“I’m sending you home,” Jongin offers, and it catches Kyungsoo by surprise, realizing it’s past ten o’clock.

 

“You can drop by if—“ He stops mid-sentence. “I mean, I’ve never had the chance to invite you over before. Is that a bad idea?”

 

It takes several seconds before he receives an answer. “No, not really.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It happens fast.

 

Kyungsoo is fumbling with the keys as he practically stumbles to the ground. He hooks an arm around Jongin’s neck, searching for leverage, but loses all the strength the second Jongin kisses him with an open mouth.

 

The door is shut and locked in haste. They rush inside.

 

Jongin’s movements are quick and sharp as he pushes Kyungsoo against the wall. Kyungsoo closes the distance, kissing Jongin, once, and then again and again and again until he is flushed and squirming. The heat settles into his belly as he jerks forward. He shudders at the contact. Jongin almost laughs.

 

He reaches for the buttons of Kyungsoo’s shirt. “Kyungsoo, what are we doing?” Jongin asks.

 

“I don’t know,” Kyungsoo manages as he rids of Jongin’s jacket. “I don’t know,” he says, breathing at intervals. “But I do know what I want and I want you.”

 

“Okay.” Jongin’s face burns flaming red.

 

Kyungsoo shoves him on the other side of the wall, taking control as he suckles at a patch of skin on Jongin’s neck, then kisses him roughly, tongue thrusting back and forth. Jongin balls a fist in the material of Kyungsoo's button-down and grinds against him.

 

It’s sweet torture that Jongin can barely maintain a grasp on. He watches Kyungsoo crouch down and drag a finger over the forming tent in his trousers. He rubs against Kyungsoo’s hand desperately, trembling, and before he can even move or speak, his belt is tossed to the floor and Kyungsoo’s palm presses harder along the length of his cock.

 

“You’re shaking,” Kyungsoo says, popping the buttons and lowering the zipper of Jongin’s jeans. Jongin cannot help but chuckle mid-whimper at the memory.

 

He grips the shaft of Jongin’s cock, squeezing it as he licks a long stripe from the base to the tip. A moan lurks in the back of Jongin’s throat, and he chokes on it. The warm coat of Kyungsoo’s lips feels ridiculously good. He sucks, hard, and Jongin turns into a shuddering mess in a couple minutes. Kyungsoo swallows him whole.

 

The faint shade of red across Jongin’s cheeks darkens. He looks wrecked, eyes squeezed shut, hair rumpled and sticking up in odd places. He takes a deep breath, then rocks his hips, panting and sweating and fucking Kyungsoo’s mouth, before tugging on a chunk of his hair. Kyungsoo holds him still for a moment, lavishing the head, flicking a tongue over the slit. Jongin hisses at the sensation.

 

Kyungsoo pauses, pumping Jongin’s cock. “Bet you want to come in my mouth,” he breathes. “Do you want me to keep going?” He slows down, now thumbing the slit and lapping at it. Jongin gasps. “I can make you come right here.”

 

“No, don’t,” Jongin groans. “Not yet.” Kyungsoo obliges, mumbling a _sure._ Jongin lifts Kyungsoo’s body. His fingers are rough and tight on Kyungsoo’s waist as he makes the walk to the bedroom.

 

“You’re going in the wrong direction,” Kyungsoo croaks, lips touching the shell of Jongin’s ear. He showers him kisses on the jaw, chuckling as Jongin apologizes with a sheepish grin. He is not letting Jongin fuck him in the kitchen. Kyungsoo guides him into the bedroom.

 

The switch of the lampshade is flicked on. Jongin free-falls on the mattress as Kyungsoo hovers on top of him. He watches him strip, running both hands along the curves of his body as soon as the clothes are thrown to the floor.

 

Jongin’s skin is on fire. He forgets the business deal if that even exists. "Kyungsoo," he inhales, pulling him in. He kisses the column of Kyungsoo’s throat, and sucks the skin, leaving a huge purplish bruise ringed with spit. Then he picks a different spot near the shoulder, biting the edge of it, before licking softly. He darts from mark to mark until Kyungsoo is gasping at the delicious nip of his teeth.

 

There is a smile on Jongin's face as he flips him on the sheets. Kyungsoo’s body is probably burning at a hundred degrees, but it doesn’t matter. He settles for a kiss, wet and sloppy, and Jongin grabs his ass, squeezing him.

 

Kyungsoo quickly rifles through the nightstand for the lube. “Got it.” He blushes as Jongin looks at him.

 

“Do you want me to—?”

 

"I can do it," he says. Kyungsoo caps the tube open, slathering a glob onto his fingers, before snapping the bottle closed and tossing it aside. He starts stroking Jongin's cock, then reaches down to brush two wet digits across his hole. “Oh,” he cries, pressing and scissoring them inside him. Jongin nearly panics. “I just – It’s not – I’m fine!” he splutters.

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jongin says soothingly, and Kyungsoo makes a noise that dies on Jongin’s lips. He sneaks his fingers south, finding him slick and stretched as he strokes Kyungsoo’s rim in dainty circles, then teases it with the tip of his cock. Kyungsoo pants harder.

 

He adjusts the angle of his body as Jongin sinks into him and picks up a steady pace. Jongin rolls his hips, peppering Kyungsoo’s collarbones with soft kisses as fingertips rake his arm. He rams in and out, tousled and sweaty, and nuzzles the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck, inhaling through his nose.

 

Kyungsoo moves with heavy-lidded eyes, matching the rhythm of Jongin’s hips. He loses it soon, chest heaving, heels digging into the mattress, as Jongin fucks and jerks him off at the same time, fist working his cock in a rapid motion. He clenches around him, sated, shaking, and Jongin grips his thigh, keeping him still, kissing him for a good second. He moans into his mouth.

 

Jongin speeds up, buries his cock deeper, until he and Kyungsoo are both nearing. Jongin comes first, releasing inside him, and Kyungsoo follows a minute after, grunting, squirting thick ropes of white onto Jongin’s hand and across his stomach. He is suddenly feeling exhausted.

 

There is a pregnant pause as Jongin collapses next to him. “So, what do we do now?”

 

Kyungsoo’s eyes remain glued to the ceiling. “Sleep.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

A streak of sunlight casts through the window. It's six-thirty in the morning, cold temperature is apparent, room is a total mess, and Kyungsoo desperately needs an extra-large coffee. He blinks at the clothes and shoes scattered all over the floor. There is no point in pretending he doesn't remember because he does, from singlehandedly stripping Jongin's shirt off to tenderly kissing him good night, and goddamn, Kyungsoo's thoughts are in high definition.

 

He hears a soft sound of breathing and smells a different scent of perfume. He tosses the sheets, glancing at the half-naked man huddled under the blanket as it dawns on him that Jongin is still asleep.

 

Jongin rolls on the other side of the bed after a minute. Kyungsoo flushes at the sight, sighing, and before he can even move, Jongin squints his eyes open.

 

“Hey,” Jongin greets with a sluggish smile. “Did you rest well?”

 

Kyungsoo ignores the question. “You can have the bathroom first,” he says. "There's an extra toothbrush in the cabinet.” He leaves with a heavy heart.

 

There is a pitcher of orange juice on the table as Jongin saunters into the dining room and finds Kyungsoo in an apron. The countertops, including the cooking utensils on the shelf, are clear of clutter. Jongin is amazed by how clean the kitchen area is. A plate of butter and toast for two is served. He slides into the chair. Kyungsoo follows several seconds later.

 

“You have a very nice place,” Jongin says to break the silence.

 

Kyungsoo grabs a loaf of bread. “Thanks.” The tone is meant to leave Jongin in a fit of pique, but it doesn’t, and Kyungsoo is royally pissed that the cold shoulder doesn’t even work on Jongin. At the same time, he feels oddly tormented for blundering in a side-eye-worthy kind of relationship.

 

“I’m meeting a friend in the afternoon,” Kyungsoo tells him.

 

“Oh, okay,” Jongin says, catching the hint that he has to set off soon. “I’m driving to the university. I can give you a ride if you’re heading to the west route.”

 

Kyungsoo hesitates. He doesn’t need to be part of Jongin’s day. _This_. This cannot go further.

 

“I’m taking a cab.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Can you order a box of pizza for me?” Kyungsoo asks, lounging on the couch as he hugs a throw pillow.

 

Baekhyun snorts. He is on the verge of punching Kyungsoo in the throat for being arguably tough. There is, however, a chapter in the story that puzzles him, and he demands an honest-to-god explanation. “You’re dealing with a fucking crisis, literally, you have hickeys to hide with a thick layer of concealer, and you think eight slices of pepperoni can solve your problem?”

 

“Temporarily, it can,” Kyungsoo says. “I hate that I cannot make things right.” He trails off in thought. “I’m so conflicted.”

 

“Look,” Baekhyun prompts, tapping him on the knee. “You’re both adults.” He raises a silencing hand before Kyungsoo can even utter a single word. “You don’t have to complicate casual sex.” He doesn’t miss Kyungsoo’s lips pursing into a line. It’s enough of a response for Baekhyun. “Do me a favor and ask yourself a question. What do you want to happen?”

 

Kyungsoo falters for a second. “I don’t know.”

 

Baekhyun grasps the bottle of soju from the table and shoves it in Kyungsoo’s stomach. Kyungsoo takes it. “You’re too sober for this shit.” He pauses for a drink. “You’re a mess, Kyungsoo. What’s the point of consulting me as your Oprahesque go-to person if you don’t listen?”

 

There is frustration in Kyungsoo’s eyes. “What am I supposed to do?”

 

“First of all, check your emotions, and second of all, stop pretending you don’t have them.”

 

“You’re not helping.”

 

“Oh, trust me, I am.”

 

“I’m fucking stupid.” Kyungsoo shifts on the couch.

 

Baekhyun pinches the bud of his nose. “It shouldn’t be a goddamn fight of what is wrong and what is right. It shouldn’t be about the perfect moment. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

 

“I can’t stop thinking about him.” Kyungsoo’s voice is brittle.

 

“He is _that_ good in bed?”

 

Kyungsoo squirms and smacks him on the thigh. “You’re terrible.”

 

Baekhyun yelps, laughing. “I couldn’t help it.”

 

“Shut up. You sound like a dying hyena.” Kyungsoo stifles a smile. There is a beat of silence before he finds himself staring at his phone and expecting a message from Jongin. “He doesn’t care, does he?” The question leaves a bad taste in Kyungsoo’s mouth. He gulps.

 

“I bet he does,” Baekhyun says. He exhales loudly. “You like Kim Jongin.”

 

The heavy throbbing of Kyungsoo’s heart quickens. “That’s not true,” he says, emptying his bottle before placing it on the table.

 

“Fine, you can pretend you don’t like him but it doesn’t change the fact that you do,” Baekhyun surrenders.

 

“For fuck’s sake,” Kyungsoo hisses.

 

“My work here is done.” Baekhyun picks up the handset of the landline and dials a number.

 

“Are you actually buying me pizza?”

 

“No, I’m calling McDonald’s. You make me sad. I need a Happy Meal.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

A uniformed bartender comes and takes Kyungsoo’s order. Kyungsoo chugs the shot of tequila as he surveys the bar, straight-faced, searching for a man in a sport coat and navy corduroys.

 

Junmyeon arrives fifteen minutes later. “I haven’t seen you for weeks,” he says. Kyungsoo avoids eye contact as he shifts on the barstool and motions a hand for drinks. “How have you been?”

 

The question itself puts Kyungsoo in a perpetual daze. “I preordered the book you kept talking about. I thought I could give it a try and consider your favorite genre.”

 

“Jesus Christ, Kyungsoo. Did you invite me here for that?”

 

“What were you expecting?”

 

“A crisis.”

 

Kyungsoo turns pale. “Did Baekhyun tell you?”

 

“Jongdae kind of did,” Junmyeon says with a lopsided grin. “A few days ago, I told him to drop by your apartment and surprise you with a box of chocolates because I couldn’t afford to ditch the board. I just wanted to keep in touch as your friend. But you were all dressed and ready. You had your hot date waiting for you in the car.” He shrugs. “Jongdae said you looked really happy.”

 

There is a gaping hole in Kyungsoo’s chest, and he cannot seem to breathe. He waits, allowing Junmyeon to continue.

 

“I wish I had gone with him,” Junmyeon adds. “I couldn’t imagine it but I was glad you were having fun instead of babysitting a client,” he quips, and Kyungsoo downs more shots. Junmyeon squeezes him on the shoulder. “Easy. We have all night to talk about it.”

 

Kyungsoo’s gaze is etched on the ground. “Junmyeon, I’m terrified.” His voice quavers.

 

“Of feeling too much?” Junmyeon asks, eyeing him.

 

“I guess.” Kyungsoo smiles stiffly. “Funny, but yeah.”

 

Junmyeon notices Kyungsoo’s fingers fidgeting on the bar top. “Emotions are not facts. You cannot trust them. They are incredibly intense and controlling. So, you’ve got to wrap them in your hands. Confront them either with fear or courage. It’s your choice, but you know, I’ve learned one important thing in life. They can be changed because you’re greater than them and they’re often temporary.”

 

“It’s not that simple,” Kyungsoo mumbles. He is stuck between the warring currents of feeling and thinking, not in a smooth 50/50 ratio, more like in a catastrophic 70/30 blend, and it sucks.

 

“I know.” Junmyeon stops to drink. “You’ll be fine,” he says comfortingly. “Kyungsoo, I’ve been working with you for years. You’re a good person. You deserve someone who stays. If you think you’ve found that someone, please don’t hold back.” He grins, rubbing Kyungsoo’s back. “He’s a lucky guy.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The pinnacle of human tragedy occurs the following week.

 

Kyungsoo is dreaded by the thought of sitting in Jongin’s class. He breezes into the room, warily, eyes on the farthest object, mustering the courage to spare him a glance, and with a tremendous amount of it, he does. Once, because the urge is overwhelming. Twice, because Jongin is looking.

 

The students are focused on the lecture as Jongin begins, voice calm and steady. He projects an air of confidence as he speaks of the presentation in great detail.

 

At the other end of the world, Kyungsoo is too distracted to pay attention to the lesson. There are characters on the board, written in bold letters, but they are of no use. The dates, particularly, are forgettable. Kyungsoo is drowning in nostalgia.

 

Then he snaps out of it and catches Jongin staring at him. He counts. _Six seconds._ If he remembers it correctly, he has the right to question him.

 

It’s chaos in motion, he thinks of falling for Jongin and hoping there is a chance. Kyungsoo’s chest hurts. He reminisces the lingering taste of Jongin’s lips like fresh autumn apples and raspberries. Ah, the kiss. There is some sort of magic to it in a non-movie or non-novel sense. Kyungsoo just cannot rid of the spell.

 

Jongin ends the class fifteen minutes earlier than the supposed time. He reminds the students that they have to submit a 1500-word paper tackling the significance of _Philosophy and Literature_ due Friday. “I hope you have written at least half of it. Please do your research thoroughly and don’t bombard me with sources from user-generated websites like Wikipedia.”

 

“Do we have to italicize the sub-headings?” a girl asks.

 

“Of course. You can refer to the format I’ve posted.” Jongin beams.

 

Kyungsoo is mannerly enough to quit the secret staring game, but it keeps happening again and again as though it’s a contest of sorts and there is a winning prize.

 

Gingerly, he hurries to the door and pretends he doesn’t notice Jongin looking over at him.

 

“Kyungsoo, wait,” Jongin says, rushing to him and grabbing Kyungsoo by the arm.

 

“What are you doing?” Kyungsoo almost yells. He finds two students eyeing them. “Jongin,” he warns. “We’ve been reckless enough.” There is a dull ache in the pit of Kyungsoo’s stomach. It’s a dead-end. Jongin doesn’t owe him an explanation, he thinks despondently. _This_. This is the reality. It stings like rubbing a tincture of iodine on a massive paper cut. “Let me go.”

 

Jongin does. “I know you’re avoiding me, and honestly, it’s pissing me off.”

 

“So what?” Kyungsoo shoots back. “Do you expect me to apologize for it?”

 

“You’re coming with me whether you like it or not.”

 

There is no point in complaining when Jongin’s fingers are tightly wrapped around Kyungsoo’s wrist, and Kyungsoo’s feet are dragging him to the parking lot. Jongin decides to have the conversation in his car. He picks a spot a few blocks from the university, making sure they are safe to discuss the matter as they momentarily sit in silence.

 

“Talk,” Jongin starts.

 

Kyungsoo’s fist curls into a ball. “What do you want me to say?”

 

“You were mad at me the last time we met.”

 

“I wasn’t.”

 

“Why didn’t you call me then? I was worried. You said you were fine and you just needed to clear your head. I trusted you. Why would you say something if you didn’t mean it?”

 

Kyungsoo swallows thickly. “I was waiting for you.”

 

“And what?”

 

“And I figured you didn’t care about me at all.”

 

Jongin’s sinks into the driver’s seat. He lifts a hand and runs it through his hair. “I gave you the space you had wished for when I left your apartment. I wanted you to think, but you got it wrong, and now you’re telling me that I don’t care about you.”

 

“You really don’t.”

 

“Kyungsoo, that’s not true.”

 

“This is confusing for me, Jongin, this thing – this whole thing with you!”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t know where I stand in your life or if I’m even part of it.” Kyungsoo’s heart is pounding. It’s like chains have tied him to the words he has been longing to speak. “I’m not supposed to expect something from you for being nice to me because that’s just you. You always make people feel they’re special.”

 

“I guess I’m just that kind of person,” Jongin says.

 

Kyungsoo is fazed. “It terrifies me having you around, but fuck it, I like you.” He holds Jongin’s gaze. “I like you,” he repeats. “I can pretend you’ve never walked me home, kissed me, or brought me to a boring party if I want to, but that’s not what I want.”

 

Jongin is caught by surprise. He chuckles lightly. “It was boring?”

 

A smile threatens to tug at the corner of Kyungsoo’s mouth. “Not really, but yeah.”

 

“Well.” Jongin shrugs, then sighs. “I’m sorry. I should have known.” He molds a hand on the curve of Kyungsoo’s neck and rubs it. “I do care about you.” He doesn’t smile. “We can work things out, can’t we?”

 

Kyungsoo wets his lips. “We can try.”

 

Jongin’s hand slides down the expanse of Kyungsoo’s back. He strokes him gently. “Of course we can.” He presses a soft kiss on Kyungsoo’s temple. “Can I at least bring you to your favorite restaurant for dinner? I've been having a run of bad luck with food delivery, actually. You should come with me tonight.” Jongin waits. “No?”

 

“No,” Kyungsoo blurts out. “I mean, yes, but—“

 

“You can’t afford to put me in trouble,” Jongin finishes for him. “I’m perfectly aware of that. Kyungsoo, it doesn’t even have to matter now.”

 

“It matters to me.”

 

There is a small pout on Jongin’s lips. “I need to see you after work.”

 

“Why do you—?”

 

“I’ve missed you.”

 

Kyungsoo tries not to laugh and fails miserably. “That’s ridiculous.”

 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you in the past days,” Jongin confesses, flushing.

 

“We have three weeks before the semester ends,” Kyungsoo says, placing a comforting hand over Jongin’s thigh. “I promise, we’ll go on a date soon. A real date.”

 

“Like I have a choice,” Jongin deadpans.

 

Kyungsoo cups Jongin’s cheek. “Let’s do this right, okay?” It takes Jongin a couple seconds to respond with a nod and a finger brushing the wisp of hair off Kyungsoo’s forehead. “You have to go in ten minutes,” he reminds him. “I’m sure the sophomores are eagerly waiting for you.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“I’ll be fine. You should get going.” Kyungsoo opens the door, preparing to leave. “I’m heading home so I can start working on your paper.” He smirks. “I haven’t written a single word, but I’ll make sure it’ll exceed your sky-high expectations.”

 

Jongin flashes him a grin. “Wait.” He fixes the collar of Kyungsoo’s flannel. “There.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Are you sure you can walk to the station alone?”

 

“I’m grownup,” Kyungsoo says as he stands and gives Jongin a final look. “Drive safely.”

 

Jongin’s smile grows fonder. He feels warm. “Okay.” 

 

Kyungsoo’s chest thunders loud.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a torture for Kyungsoo to keep the pact with Jongin day by day, but he knows it’s the only way to make things right and that, certainly, it’s all going to be worth it. He continues to attend Jongin’s classes, research on the project to be passed at the end of the semester, and study for finals.

 

As much as possible, he doesn’t talk to Jongin about a topic that doesn’t concern the lesson. There are times he stays on purpose, waiting for everyone to leave, until he can freely approach him just to ask two questions. _Are you doing okay? Do you need help?_ Jongin tells him he doesn’t have to worry because his TA is highly dependable. Kyungsoo doesn’t argue, wary that he might cross a line, despite the knowledge that Jongin is getting less than five hours of sleep. 

 

They steal glances across the room and corridor. They settle into a routine behind closed doors. They exchange messages at night, swapping details about themselves, even though they have decided to stop meeting after class. Kyungsoo learns Jongin is interested in Frank Ocean’s music which leads him to listening to _Endless_ and _Blonde_. Jongin calls him the exact moment Kyungsoo finishes and sings him a song from the studio album. He can hear the smile in Jongin’s voice. He chuckles, not because of the heavy accent, but because Jongin sounds absurdly fascinating. Kyungsoo is lost in the idea of being with him, wanting to hold him close after a long day, and it hurts.

 

“I really like you, Kyungsoo,” Jongin says.

 

The agony of waiting doesn’t deter Kyungsoo from following the pact. One week, he thinks as he slips into the room. He claims a seat in the front row knowing Jongin is not feeling well today. Jongin proceeds with the lecture, encouraging the students to pay attention as he notices a group of boys chatting thoughtlessly in the back of the room. It pisses Kyungsoo off for a good minute. He remains behind as the class ends. 

 

Kyungsoo plods toward Jongin’s desk. “I told you, you should have stayed home.”

 

Jongin coughs. “I’m okay. You have a date with your friends, right?” He glances at the wall clock.

 

“I can’t leave you. I’ll help you bring your things to your office.”

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

“But Jongin—“

 

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin interrupts, sighing. “I’ll be fine. It’s almost two, and by now, your friends are probably wondering where you are. I don’t want you to ditch them because of me.”

 

“Just let me help you. Please?” Kyungsoo insists. Jongin opens his mouth to answer, but Kyungsoo immediately continues before he gets interrupted. “Don’t reject me!” he barks. “I’m not used to that.”

 

Jongin chuckles, shaking his head. “Okay.”

 

“And promise me, if you can’t drive later, you’ll call me.”

 

“I will.” Jongin smiles. “I promise.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Why were you not answering your phone?” Baekhyun asks with a sneer. He notices the film of sweat on Kyungsoo’s temple. “You’re dripping like a goddamn faucet.” He winces.

 

“Shut up,” Kyungsoo mutters as he joins Baekhyun in the booth. “I’m sorry for coming late.”

 

“It’s okay!” Junmyeon says hurriedly. He beams and hands Kyungsoo the menu. “They serve chicken tenders here. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

 

“Don’t listen to him!” Chanyeol chips in, and Junmyeon nudges his shoulder. “Hyung, he can cook chicken tenders at home.” He scowls. “They have beef steak, too, Kyungsoo.”

 

“Caesar salad with grilled shrimp,” Baekhyun suggests. “Kyungsoo, I’m your best friend.”

 

Kyungsoo orders a platter of baked chicken tenders. He thanks the waiter as soon as the dishes are lain on the table. As expected, Chanyeol is having grilled beef steak and Junmyeon is satisfied with teriyaki tofu bowl. Meanwhile, Baekhyun is complaining about the serving size of Caesar salad.

 

“I thought you invited Jongdae hyung,” Kyungsoo says to Junmyeon.

 

“I did, but the members of the band were all waiting for him, and he couldn’t afford to cancel the practice,” Junmyeon explains. “They’re preparing for the concert.”

 

“I love concerts!” Chanyeol chimes. He flashes him a megawatt smile. “Can I come?”

 

“Of course you can!” Junmyeon’s face brightens up. “Jongdae will be happy to see you guys. I’m also throwing a party for him after the concert. If you’re free, you’re welcome to join the celebration. You can bring a date.”

 

“A date,” Baekhyun repeats, sounding bitter. “Oh. Right.” He turns to Kyungsoo. “Can Sookyung escort me? I bet she can.”

 

Kyungsoo chokes, then drinks water. “Fuck you.”

 

“No, she can’t,” Chanyeol butts in. “I’m the moderator.”

 

“But you’re not the real boyfriend.”

 

“The real boyfriend?”

 

“Yeah, you can dial Kim Jongin’s number and ask permission.”

 

Chanyeol spits out a strip of beef. “Kim Jongin?” he gasps.

 

“You’re dating Kim Jongin?” Junmyeon’s eyes are wide as they bear at Kyungsoo. “The guy you like is Kim Jongin? Your boyfriend is Kim Jongin?”

 

“Yes, Kyungsoo’s boyfriend is—“

 

“Baekhyun, you shit. I haven’t told them yet!” Kyungsoo snaps.

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Baekhyun chants. “There’s nothing particularly wrong with dating your professor. Plus, the semester is almost over.” He puts a hand over his mouth, mumbling a curse word, and Kyungsoo just sighs in defeat.

 

Junmyeon is in a state of shock. “We need beer.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a great surprise that Kyungsoo manages to crawl out of bed as early as seven o’clock. He nurses a mug of coffee in one hand and a plate of toasts in the other.

 

He lumbers into the walk-in closet exhibiting a line of clothes, shoes, and accessories. The space, fair in size, is divided into two sections. The left side is a display of Sookyung’s wardrobe which is the stark contrast of Kyungsoo’s fashion taste.

 

He opts for a white shirt topped with a blue flannel matching a pair of stonewashed jeans and retro sneakers, then flitters out of the building as soon as he is ready to go. He greets the old lady standing at the front door. He hails a cab for her.

 

The rise and fall of Kyungsoo’s chest is at a rapid pace as he strides down the corridor. He enters the room and finds Jongin attending to a student and chuckling at a certain joke.

 

Since it’s the last day of the semester, Jongin has decided to wrap it up by discussing the readings at large and chatting with the students, then returning the final exams. He reaches Kyungsoo’s seat minutes after. “You did well,” he says, grinning.

 

Kyungsoo tries not to react much. He gives him a small smile. “Thank you, _professor_.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The waitress serves the dishes, and Jongin acknowledges her with gratitude.

 

The restaurant is quite packed. Kyungsoo surveys the area, looking at each table, fascinated by the classical music playing in the background. There are a group of portly men in business suits drinking wine, an old couple eating side by side, and a European tourist talking on the phone while perusing the menu.

 

He turns to Jongin. “Do you have plans on the 29th?”

 

Jongin thinks for a moment. “I’m free in the evening. Why do you ask?”

 

“I’ve been invited to Junmyeon’s party and I want you to come with me,” Kyungsoo explains. “It’s sudden, but he’s eager to host an event to celebrate Jongdae hyung’s first concert.”

 

“That’s sweet.” Jongin smiles. He pours a glass of wine for Kyungsoo, then hands it to him. Kyungsoo mumbles a _thank you_. “Are you planning to introduce me to your friends?” Jongin asks timidly. “I mean, you often mention names like Chanyeol and Min — is it Minseok or Minsung?”

 

Kyungsoo chuckles at him. “It’s Minseok. I may have told them about you before, although technically, it’s Baekhyun's fault.” He sighs at the horrifying memory. He remembers Junmyeon grilling him for information and ordering at least fifteen bottles of beer to keep the conversation going. “Junmyeon knows you well for an obvious reason.”

 

A mild flicker of panic crosses Jongin’s face. “Now I’m nervous!” He winces. “What do I do?”

 

“Laugh at his dad jokes.”

 

“Seriously. I’m partly excited and partly terrified to meet your friends.”

 

“I’m sure they’ll love you.”

 

They discuss their duties for the week and finish their food in thirty minutes. The bill comes, and as expected, Jongin pays for the meal. “It’s our first date,” Jongin states, aware that Kyungsoo is about to interrogate him.

 

“I’m an adult, too. Why do you always have to pay for me?”

 

“Because the rules say so.”

 

“I don’t like following the rules.”

 

There is a ghost of a smile playing across the corners of Jongin’s lips. “Me neither.”

 

By the time they are out of the restaurant, Jongin offers Kyungsoo a ride home, insisting it saves him the cab fare. Kyungsoo swears there is no need since it’s still early and he doesn’t mind travelling alone, but Jongin doesn’t let him win the argument.

 

“Jongin, I told you, it’s okay,” Kyungsoo says for the fourth time as Jongin pushes him in the passenger seat. He waits for him to slip into the driver’s seat.

 

“I’m not okay with leaving you when I’ve got the chance to stay,” Jongin shoots back with a lopsided grin. He starts the engine. The car lurches. Kyungsoo is left speechless. “You can drive for me as soon as you get your license.”

 

“And when is that?”

 

“That depends on you.”

 

“You make me suffer.” The frown on Kyungsoo’s face changes into a smile.

 

Silence settles between them, though it’s not the awkward kind which requires a forced conversation. Kyungsoo is busy responding to Baekhyun’s text messages while Jongin is too focused on the road ahead. “Do you want to visit my place this coming weekend?” Jongin asks out of the blue. Kyungsoo’s fingers freeze. “And hang out,” he adds quickly.

 

Kyungsoo’s mouth twitches. “Sure.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

There is a pile of clothes strewn on the couch. The coffee table is heaped with a stack of folders, a column of books, and a bag of chips. It’s not the best, apparently, but it’s a pretty room featuring a modern lux interior with a neutral color palette.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, just, um, give me a second,” Jongin panics. He gathers all the mess, frantic and embarrassed, tripping over the carpet as he scrabbles around on the floor.

 

“Jongin, it’s okay,” Kyungsoo says. He pats the small of Jongin’s back. “Relax.” He chuckles, and Jongin sighs, red-faced, staring at the clutter. “You should be in the kitchen preparing tea.”

 

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’ve been busy and I barely have time to clean,” Jongin explains.

 

“I know and I understand,” Kyungsoo assures. “I’ll fold your clothes for you. Leave them here.”

 

“No, no, you don’t have to do that for me!” Jongin protests, flustered.

 

Kyungsoo snubs him and snatches the garments from Jongin’s grip. “No more talking.”

 

After several minutes, Jongin comes back holding a silver tray with two porcelain cups and a white teapot. He places it on the table and joins Kyungsoo on the couch. “Thanks for helping.”

 

The clothes have been neatly folded while the folders and books have been arranged on the shelves. Kyungsoo pours tea. “I thought you had a roommate,” he says.

 

“Oh, yeah, I used to live with my sister, but she moved to a different city because of work,” Jongin answers. “She’d cook dinner for me every night.” He grins. “Honestly, I felt lonely when she left. I couldn’t sleep for a month.”

 

“That sucks. I used to live with my older brother, too, but he got married, had kids, and well, it just happened that he forgot about me.” Kyungsoo shrugs. “I’ve learned I can’t stop people from changing, growing, and most importantly, leaving.”

 

“Hey,” Jongin drawls, throwing an arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulders and pulling him in. He kisses his hair. “Guess who’s not going to leave you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The clack of heels against the marble flooring can be heard as Kyungsoo struts in a pair of ankle boots and thigh-high socks. He heads to the professor’s office and surveys the lobby for good measure. Of course he knows the danger of coming to the university as Sookyung, but the trench coat covering him is huge enough to hide the outfit and he is very determined to surprise Jongin.

 

Frankly, Kyungsoo has been considering the idea for quite some time. He files into the room and flips the lock on the door. He finds Jongin behind a MacBook, typing, dressed in a crisp white shirt and tight-fitting slacks. “Are you busy?” he asks, startling Jongin.

 

“I’ve been waiting—” Jongin trails off as he looks over at him.

 

There is a pregnant pause before the shock registers on Jongin’s face. He stares at him with a jaw drop. Kyungsoo is all dolled-up, lips in a natural shade of pink, skin flushed and pale under the lighting. He is fashionably attired in a halter crop top and a black tennis skirt that match the choker adorning his neck. As predicted, the set of clothes, which Jongin bought for Kyungsoo weeks prior to the class reunion, looks perfect on him. It leaves a lot to the imagination.

 

Jongin’s throat goes coarse and dry. “K-Kyungsoo,” he stutters, then coughs out a nervous laugh.

 

For a moment, Kyungsoo’s confidence shrinks. “Is this a stupid idea?”

 

“No, no, oh god, no,” Jongin chants in a soft and urgent voice. “You look beautiful.” He shifts on the chair to motion at him. “Come here.” 

 

Kyungsoo stalks toward Jongin’s desk and straddles him. He swallows hard as Jongin pulls the strap of his choker with an index finger and thumbs the bow of his lips. “I’ve had thoughts about the things I want to do with you,” Kyungsoo says, twisting an arm around Jongin’s neck.

 

“Like what?” Jongin’s mouth quirks into a grin.

 

The rough material of Kyungsoo’s skirt brushes against Jongin’s lap as he pulls him in. Jongin’s cock twitches at the contact. “Like you bending me over your desk.” He inhales sharply, and soon, Jongin’s back is pushed flat on the seat. “Kissing me everywhere.” He leans forward, and Jongin lets out something between a sigh and a moan. Kyungsoo is not sure but he likes the sound of it. “And fucking me hard from behind.”

 

Jongin doesn’t respond. Instead, he settles for a kiss, coaxing Kyungsoo’s mouth open with his tongue, thrusting it to and fro, until Kyungsoo is rutting against him through layers of clothing. Jongin’s hand delves further beneath his skirt. “You’re quite a devil,” he says gutturally. “You told me you were on your way to have dinner with me.” He kisses him once more. “You lied.”

 

“Dinner can wait.” Kyungsoo pops the buttons of Jongin’s shirt and swears this is one of the hardest parts. He runs both hands across the plane of his chest, then fiddles with the leather belt that he damns every single time he reaches this stage.

 

“Do you need help?” Jongin asks, humming.

 

“No, it’s okay,” Kyungsoo hisses. He shares a smile with him. “You know I’m doing a good job.”

 

“Ah, hurry up.”

 

“Don’t be impatient!”

 

Jongin just chuckles at him. He captures Kyungsoo’s lips in a long, deep kiss. It’s frustrating doubly because his hips are snapping for friction, sweet and textured, and Kyungsoo is grinding on him so nice and slow that he cannot even think straight. He nips him on the shoulder, licking and suckling at it as he releases the ribbons of Kyungsoo’s top. He tries to cage him in a vice-like grip, but Kyungsoo keeps squirming. Jongin surrenders with a short laugh.

 

The heat of Jongin’s body lingers on Kyungsoo’s skin. He rocks against the length of his cock, feeling the way it flexes through the fabric, and sucks in a gasp of air. It takes a fraction of a second before Jongin is pushing him toward the desk and teasing his nipple with a flick of the tongue. Kyungsoo stiffens, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes, chewing on his bottom lip, fingers carding through Jongin’s hair.

 

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo pants as a warm hand travels between his legs. “Oh, god, just—“ he croaks out, stopping mid-sentence when Jongin soothes him with a chaste kiss.

 

Soon, Jongin is ordering him to stand up. Kyungsoo follows as Jongin clears the desk and shoves him against it, arms and elbows splayed across the surface, reaching for the carved edges. “You have really pretty legs,” he says, tugging on Kyungsoo’s skirt before peeling down his lace panties and allowing them to pool on the floor. He squeezes the inside of Kyungsoo’s thighs, then traces a series of lines, exposing the crack of his ass, nails digging a little into the firm muscle.

 

The sight sends a spasm into Jongin’s stomach. He squats down the ground. He peppers kisses across the skin, then laves up and over Kyungsoo’s hole, his tongue pressing and flicking on the rim, until Kyungsoo’s knees are buckling. Jongin’s one-handed grip tightens.

 

He pulls the cheeks of Kyungsoo’s ass and goes face first between them. He makes a strangled noise as he licks flat, broad stripes along the ring of muscle, coating it with spit, lapping at the spot languorously. Kyungsoo breathes in each thrust, chest heaving, eyes drifting closed. He rolls his hips.

 

Jongin jacks himself off at the same time. Then he wets two fingers and scissors them in and out of the hole, slick and clenching, then three, pushing them further as Kyungsoo’s hand mimics his in a desperate attempt to quicken the pace. “Like that?” Jongin asks, feigning innocence. Kyungsoo answers with a deep hum that he takes as a _yes_. He moves faster.

 

Kyungsoo is panting when he finally wraps a hand around his own cock and slathers the beads of precum with a bobbing fist.  He settles into a rhythm in a few easy strokes, and as soon as he feels himself nearing, he falters and swears and chokes on Jongin’s name.

 

“Hold that skirt up for me.” Jongin rises to his feet as Kyungsoo complies with the request. He slaps his cock on Kyungsoo’s ass, then crowds near him. “I’m going to fuck you just the way you like it,” he says, and Kyungsoo manages another _yes_. “Hard and fast. In your thighs.”

 

He grabs the lube from the drawer, squirts some, and spreads it along the gap between Kyungsoo’s thighs. Kyungsoo shudders at the coldness of the substance. “You okay?” Jongin asks, trying to sound sincere, but Kyungsoo immediately catches the hint of sarcasm in his tone. He snorts.

 

It’s a delicate process, a drag of skin on skin, which requires Jongin to level his hips at a relatively low angle. He starts with slow thrusts, cock pressing fit between Kyungsoo’s thighs and the head poking out in every rut. He holds Kyungsoo in place, maintaining a steady pace. Kyungsoo shifts beneath him, squeezing his thighs together, skin grazing the shaft of Jongin’s cock deliciously. Jongin hisses a string of curse words.

 

The sticky catch of precum and lube mixes, and eventually, Jongin is able to speed up until Kyungsoo’s skirt rucks up his waist. He breathes heavily and lets his weight crash down on Kyungsoo as he kisses the joint of his jaw where he traces his lips down to Kyungsoo’s collarbone. It almost breaks the rhythm the minute Kyungsoo tries to meet him, but Jongin takes control in an instance, thrusting into the space, warm and tight, the tip of his cock prodding Kyungsoo’s balls.

 

By the time Jongin sinks into him, Kyungsoo feels filthy, precum dripping down in the inside of his thighs and him sliding through the length of Jongin’s cock. Jongin pistons his hips forward and backward, fighting off his orgasm, while Kyungsoo draws in a long drag of breath, cheeks flushing hot and lips parting.

 

Jongin’s arms circle around Kyungsoo’s waist as he plows in him deeper. “You’re going to come for me,” he whispers in the tender lobe of Kyungsoo’s ear as his face rests over the dip of his shoulder. “I want to hear you,” Jongin adds, and Kyungsoo nods, groaning.

 

Kyungsoo limps and moans through his orgasm, shooting streaks of cum all over the desk, and soon, he feels Jongin coming inside him, then pulling out and letting the sticky trail of white dribble down his legs. He turns round to kiss him. It’s sloppy, but he doesn’t care, even about the sweat glistening on Jongin’s body.

 

The moment is near-silence until Jongin speaks. “Dinner?” He grins, cupping Kyungsoo’s cheek.

 

Kyungsoo can only agree before Jongin is kissing him again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The night of the concert dawns with Jongdae rehearsing backstage and Junmyeon convincing him that he doesn’t even have to practice because he has spent the entire week singing and dancing at home. “You’re excited, aren’t you?” Junmyeon smiles, circling an arm around Jongdae’s shoulders. Jongdae nods. “The boys and I bought custom-made banners for you. Chanyeol and Baekhyun had distributed them to the fans a while ago. I also requested three people to manage the food truck.” He fingers the lapel of Jongdae’s jacket. Jongdae stares at him with a familiar glint in his eyes. “Are you happy?”

 

“Yes, of course, I am. You’ve done so much for me and you’re here.” Jongdae kisses him briefly on the lips. “Thank you for always supporting me in everything I do.” He pulls him in for a hug. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too, and I hope you know that I’m very proud of you,” Junmyeon whispers. “I’ll be in the front row.”

 

“You’re the best.”

 

“I’m not. You are.”

 

The pair turns to the door as it creaks open.

 

“Hello!” Jongdae greets, welcoming Kyungsoo and Jongin. He shares a private grin with Junmyeon as Jongin trades a bow with them. “You must be Jongin.”

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jongin says.

 

“Likewise. I’m Jongdae, and this is Junmyeon,” Jongdae introduces. “Thanks for coming with Kyungsoo. Enjoy the concert, and oh, please do stay, meet the boys, and have drinks later. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you in person! Especially Chanyeol.”

 

“Jesus Christ, don’t get Chanyeol drunk, though,” Junmyeon groans. “Also, if you haven’t seen Kyungsoo wasted, you’re missing out on one of the best parts of your life.” He looks over at Jongin. “Don’t worry, Jongin. You’re dating the right man.”

 

Jongin chuckles shortly. “What does he do?”

 

“What’s the big deal?” Kyungsoo hisses at Junmyeon. It doesn’t matter, though. Junmyeon can spend the whole night convincing Jongin that he doesn’t lie for a living while Kyungsoo can blame it all on the alcohol for the sake of saving himself from embarrassment. _God_. He doesn’t even remember half of the things he has done, but in every forgotten memory, there is always an exemption. Clue: karaoke.

 

Junmyeon sniggers, then turns to Jongin. “I’m not going to spoil it for you.” He checks the time. “It’s almost six. We should head out.”  

 

“What about the others?” Kyungsoo inquires.

 

“I’ll call them,” Junmyeon says. “Oh, wait, there are banners in that box.” He points at the huge carton in the corner of the room. “Please grab one!” He approaches the makeup artists, making sure they are doing well. He chats with them a bit and laughs boisterously at the inside jokes, then gives each and every one of the staff a parting pat on the back.

 

“I’m sorry he’s pretty loud,” Jongdae tells Jongin with a sheepish smile.

 

“No, no, don’t worry about it, it’s okay,” Jongin says.

 

“Honestly, I’ve never expected this kind of effort from him. You might think it’s crazy.”

 

“I think it’s cute.”

 

A few minutes later, the concert begins with lots of screaming. The fans are pumped as they sing along with Jongdae. As expected, Junmyeon is the very person who has memorized all the lyrics by heart. He dances to the beat of the songs, arms flailing in the air, cheering as often as he can. Baekhyun tries not to yell at him.

 

Meanwhile, Jongin is quiet as he watches the man in awe. He is torn between calling him adorable and hilarious, but one thing for sure, Junmyeon is officially his favorite.

 

At the end of the concert, Jongdae dedicates a self-composed song to a certain _special friend_. The strumming sound of the acoustic guitar blends with his voice as the band takes center stage in its final performance. In a rapt silence, the crowd is spellbound, bathing in the dim lights of the hall, hypnotized by the rhythm and melody of the music, and Jongdae is gazing at Junmyeon.

 

There are at least two hundred people at the party. Some visitors have occupied the tables while some have gathered around the open bar. The servers are preparing the dishes, rounding the area, and attending to the guests simultaneously.

 

Everyone is in high spirits. Minseok is facilitating the crew and organizing the drinks such as punch and champagne. Lu and Tao are both fashionably attired in Hugo Boss suits. Chanyeol is humoring a group of young ladies in the corner. Baekhyun is eyeing the desserts. Junmyeon, who is proud to host the party, is mingling with the band and the production staff, congratulating them, while Jongdae is standing next to him with the brightest smile he can ever imagine.

 

“I like Junmyeon,” Jongin says to Kyungsoo. “He seems genuine when he speaks.” He glances over at Junmyeon. Junmyeon notices and waves a hand at him. “He told me you quit as an escort.”

 

“Ah, I was planning to tell you.”

 

“Did you do it because of me?”

 

“I made a promise, Jongin.” Kyungsoo looks at him. “I said I’d leave if I had a good reason, and you came.” He gives him a reassuring grin. “I did it because I wanted to be different with you.” He pauses, studying Jongin whose eyes are deep on him. “It’s fun and all, but I’m done with it.”

 

Jongin wants to argue with him but considers Kyungsoo’s decision, and on top of it, he wants to keep him smiling the whole night without having to question him about the future. He stays silent.

 

Kyungsoo feels the need to apologize. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” he says, staring up at Jongin. “I just wish you’d understand. I know you’re worried, but you have to trust me, okay?”

 

“I trust you.” Jongin’s voice is gentle. He steps closer. “As long as you’re happy.”

 

“I’m happy!” Kyungsoo chuckles lightly. “And you should be, too.”

 

“Professor Kim! Professor Kim!” Chanyeol blabbers, coming from behind. “It’s me, Chanyeol. We met earlier.”

 

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t have the chance to talk to you, though. Thanks for ushering me to my seat when I got lost.” Jongin laughs. “I hope I didn’t trouble you.”

 

“No, it’s okay! I’m glad I helped.”

 

“I should be relieved then.”

 

Chanyeol simpers. “No, professor, actually, you’ve been the talk of the town for weeks.”

 

Jongin smiles, scratching the back of his head. “Now that’s alarming, and please, just call me Jongin.”

 

“Kyungsoo tells us you teach _Philosophy and Literature_. That’s amazing! I can’t believe Philosophy and Literature can go together like ham and cheese. I bet it’s an interesting subject.”

 

“My students think it’s boring.”

 

“That’s not true,” Kyungsoo chips in. “I like it.”

 

Chanyeol snickers. “He likes it because of you,” he says to Jongin, and Kyungsoo is quick to deny it.

 

“Jongin!” Baekhyun chimes. He offers Jongin a manly bro-hug that Chanyeol finds embarrassing and cringe-worthy. “I visited your mom’s bakery yesterday, and the guy named Yixing said you left early.”

 

“I had to go to the university and collect some of my stuff,” Jongin replies.

 

“Your mom owns a bakery?” Chanyeol asks, and Jongin nods. “Cool! I’ll drop by on Wednesday! Kyungsoo, will you come with me?”

 

Kyungsoo looks over at Jongin. “That sounds great.”

 

“What about me?” Baekhyun demands.

 

“I’d love to see you there,” Jongin supplies, and Baekhyun smiles at that. “Tell me your favorites and I’ll have them prepared for you.”

 

“You’re so nice!” Baekhyun coos. “Can I have Yixing’s number, too?”

 

“Oh my god, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol winces in disgust. “Have a bit of shame.”

 

“I like the dude.”

 

“I’m betting a hundred bucks he doesn’t like you back.”

 

“Shut the fuck up. I’ll make sure to shove five slices of garlic bread down your throat if he does.”

 

Kyungsoo turns to Jongin. “Get used to them bickering.”

 

Jongin grins. “They’re fun to watch.”

 

A couple minutes later, Baekhyun and Chanyeol are dragging Jongin onto the dance floor. They jive to the music and laugh with him. He catches a glimpse of Kyungsoo standing at the bar. Kyungsoo smiles, admiring the delicate movements of Jongin's body and the way the corners of his eyes are crinkling into crescents. He likes that Jongin is buzzing with joy and Baekhyun and Chanyeol seem to like him a lot.

 

The lights have dimmed and the music has changed into a rather slow number when Kyungsoo decides to search for Jongin. Kyungsoo's eyes roam across the dance floor where clusters of people are swaying to the song. He weaves through the crowd, and eventually, he spots Jongin from afar. He waits, not moving an inch as the man treads toward him.

 

He is not expecting Jongin to dance with him, and apparently, it doesn’t happen because the next thing he knows, Jongin is wrapping an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. Kyungsoo is too dazed to even lift a hand or utter a word or at least respond to the gesture. He has touched Jongin before, but this feels completely different. He bathes in the smell of Jongin’s body and perfume, and it’s sweet and warm and soft, and in that moment, he soothes in, relaxing into the embrace.

 

Kyungsoo thinks it's very protective. He melts into it, because really, it's perfect, and of all the moments they have shared, this is definitely the one that feels just right. It's like a silent conversation with some sort of touching, and Kyungsoo cannot help but close his eyes, listen to Jongin's heartbeat, and love the way Jongin's lips briefly presses below his ear. He fidgets, and Jongin squeezes him tighter, not wanting to let him go, not wanting it to end.

 

“It’s okay,” Jongin whispers. “Stay. You’re safe with me, I promise.” He can hear him smiling. “What are your plans after five years?”

 

“Are you seriously asking me that question right now?” Kyungsoo chuckles.

 

Jongin faces him. “I’m curious,” he mumbles. Kyungsoo grins at him. “And it’s important to me.”

 

“Let’s just say we’re going to be _very_ close colleagues.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank Enca for always checking up on me and keeping me sane. You make me laugh all the time. To Camilla for inspiring me to continue. I'm one of your biggest fans. You're literally the person who motivates me the most. To PP for being honest and straightforward whenever I need feedback. Bitch, you're the best, like you don't even ship kaisoo. I can't believe you have the patience to tolerate me and this fic.


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